Evil-twin powers, activate !

High school is forever

2011-11-22T18:23:00.002-05:00

It is a well know fact that the Evil Twins love slurpees. In Evil Twin #2's massive archive of photographs, there are a number of them with us drinking slurpees. We do differ on our flavor selection, she prefers Blue Razz and I normally stick to Coke.

This love of slurpees started at an early age. When I was 5 years old, we lived in a small apartment in Moraga, CA. During this year, my dad was living in London and my mom worked full time. I would stay an hour later at kindergarten with one of the aides, and then my sister and the neighborhood kids would come to pick me up. On bottom of the hill there was a 7/11, that was on our way home, and some days we would stop by to grab some slurpees, or go to the bowling alley to play arcade games. Maybe I am romanticizing it in my head, but it was such an idyllic childhood.

Over the years, I have spent a lot of time in mini mart parking lots, eating junk food, and hanging out with my friends. So I was shocked when I moved to San Diego, and met 2 guys who had 1) never had a slurpee before in their life 2) never hung out in a parking lot at night doing nothing. Even stranger one was from Wisconsin and the other was from Missouri. I mean I can understand if someone from NYC never did these things, but from the Midwest?

On Saturday night, we decided to rectify this fact. I picked up NS, J, and C in my Nissan Versa (They for some reason all drive BMWs which simply is not suitable for this kind of endeavor). I played a bunch of 90s mix CDs. We had the windows down. First stop was the 7 11. We all bought slurpees, and I bought a bag of Cheetos and Funyuns. We sat in the parking lot. The owner came out and gave us a weird look, but decided not to hassle us. (A big bonus to being in my 30s instead of my teens.) At first there was excessive commentary about how all of this artificial coloring and flavors is bad for them. C's wife gave him special permission over text message to eat the Funyuns. No one could argue it was delicious. They started a game of kick the can. We spent time with a running catty commentary about the 7 11 clientele. An hour and a half had passed before we checked out our watches.

We decided to go grab some food, so we went to a local gastropub for some burgers and tater tots. I tried to explain how one time in high school a friend of mine stole a bunch of nips from a plane, and how we used to use those to put in our coke slurpees. They were flabbergasted. J being the only other normal person in the group agreed except they stole liquor from their parents and would water down their parents bottles. The bartender, who was eavesdropping on our conversation, mentioned that she used to make fake MaiTais by mixing Cherry and Pina Colada flavored slurpees with rum. We all reminisced on the stupid stuff we would do, which included driving around the town with no destination in mind. NS,J and C were all drunk at this point and thought it would be so much fun to do that. We all hopped in the Nissan Versa and drove downtown.

The guys kept shouting out the window "Hey ladies, lookin' good." I did my fake drag racing move that I learned from PeiPei, the most fun girl at Columbia. We sang along to Beyonce "Single Ladies." We did a Chinese fire drill. (However this was in a remote street that had no traffic because NS was worried the cops would arrest us. This also might explain why he never had a slurpee before.)

Sure we acted like idiots that night, but some times you got to keep the spirit of the teenage years in your heart.

Tamales

2011-10-31T16:07:00.017-04:00

I have lost my desire to wear a Halloween costume this year. Well actually, I was sick sick of seeing 20 something women parading in 4 inch stilettos, flared mini-skirts and and some sort of corset top and passing that off as some sort of costume. Really, a grown woman wearing a tight and short Catholic school uniform is supposed to be sexy and not actually promoting pedophilia?

Sorry, got lost in my rant. I still wanted to honor the holiday and since moving to San Diego, I have been getting in touch of my Mexican roots. I decided to make tamales for el dia de los muertos.

Preparation the day ahead:

I bought some pork back fat at Whole Foods. Washed it and cut it into small slices. Placed it into a 250 F oven for 5 hours. Poured off the fat into mason jars and cooled it in the fridge. That's right folks, I had my own lard for this adventure.

Also, I bought the butcher's special at Whole Foods which is the leftover cuts of meat, mainly bone in shoulder chops. I put it in the crock pot with a head of garlic, salt, and pepper. It went for 5 hours on low. For the sauce, I took some of the pork broth and rehydrated pasilla peppers with some cooked onions, cumin, and jalapenos.

All of the stuff went in the fridge overnight.

El dia de los Tamales

On Sunday, I woke up early. I did all my usual Sunday business and by 10 am, I was back in my pajamas ready for my cooking adventure. I set up a tamale assembly station on the dining table, which was moved closer to the television. While many an abuelita told me that I need to purchase fresh masa, I realized that tracking down fresh masa for my tamales was excessive. So I purchased the one
available at the MexiMart down the street.

Following the instructions on the bag of corn flour, I mixed all my wet ingredients which was leftover pork broth and water with my dry ingredients of maseca baking powder and salt. On the side, I whipped up my lard, and gently folded it into the batter.

With my batter, rehydrated corn husks, and pork filling, I went into zen mode. I assembled tamal after tamal. Flatten husk. Spread batter with spatula. Spoon in filling. Roll. Fold in sides. Tie it all together. I was a machine: a Korean-American, Mexican-inspired, football watching, pajama wearing, tamales assembling machine.
Here is the conclusion. Purchasing 2 tamales from Don Carlos Taco Shop in La Jolla is $4.56. Making my own costed $28.22 for the supplies, unknown energy costs, 4 hours of total labor with product that tastes like Don Carlos's tamales. So next year to honor the day of the dead, I am marching down to Don Carlos's, purchasing two tamales and a Pacifico with lime and calling it a day. Who knows, I might even wear a sexy pirate costume so I could look pregnant with my tamales filled belly.

A trip to the desert.

2011-10-24T14:28:00.002-04:00

Since moving to San Diego, I find myself growing soft. I eat donuts with greater frequency, so my belly is softer. I take constitutionals at night without mace, so my guard is softer. And I got acclimated to the southern California weather, so my temperature core got softer.

For the past 2 weeks now, we have been covered by a marine layer. It has made me cranky and vitamin D deficient. I hated work. I hated the boy and yelled at him on the phone. I found myself feeling sad and watching a lot of Bravo TV.

I called Evil Twin #2. "I want to go to Palm Springs. It is totally impractical." Her reply, "Sounds like a great idea." Sometimes, all you need is approval to let loose. So I packed up my Nissan Versa and headed out for the desert.

Palm Springs is 2.5 hours away. I stopped at a premium outlet mall along the way. I was perplexed by the throngs of European and Chinese tourists carrying suitcases with them going gaga over Tod's driving moccasins, Judith Liber clutches, Jimmy Choo stripper shoes, Zegna ties, and Gucci scarves. I tried shopping for an hour, but then gave up. It was a sunny day 85F with desert sun. I sat with a lemonade and watched people.

My next stop was Palm Desert and Palm Springs. I took a self guided tour of Mid-century modern houses. I have no idea what this term means except I saw a lot of houses with a lot of glass and learned someone named Lautner is awesome. (I will buy a book so I could feel a little less like a country rube.) Then I went into Palm Springs itself. I saw a collection of bakelite jewelry and other costume styles of the 20s. I also drove by 3 dialysis centers. I am not sure if my eyes are just in tuned with them, or there are just a lot of people who need dialysis in Palm Springs. At around of 3:30pm, I was feeling a little peckish. I stopped by one of the italian restaurants (there are a lot in Palm Springs each one claiming to once have served Al Capone) and ate a dinner special. That is right. I ate dinner at 3:30pm in Palm Springs.

After a large meal, I moseyed onto Dessert Hot Springs. This town is in the middle of nowhere. I mean there is the desert and this small town pops up like Brigadoon. My "hotel" was a 7 room yoga retreat place. In the center of the hotel was a pool. At one end was water that came out of the hotspring and was 168 degrees and as you went down the pool the water was cooler. According to the two old lesbians (naturally) who owned the place, the minerals in the water would heal almost every ailment you would have. I laid by the pool, getting in occasionally, as I waited for my treatment. I got a scalp massage, and then was ordered to shower immediately as not to contaminate the pool or the Frette sheets (I still don't know what Frette is, but that is also on my to do list today.) By that time it was late, so I went to for a late night soak. I stared at the stars, drank some champagne I bought at Trader Joe's, and listened to two girls talk about how bitchy their friend was and how awesome LA was. I stayed in the healing waters for 2 hours before going to bed at 9pm.

I awoke at 6 am. I could not believe how trippy the night had been. Before going to bed the old lesbians told me that nothing was more magical than floating in the pool as the sun rose. So I trudged to the pool. I put some cylinder floating things under my feet. I lay there staring at the crescent moon as the sun came up and painted the normally unattractive San Jacinto mountains a perfect shade of persimmon. It was a rather religious experience.

After the sun came up, an old Brazillian couple that were staying in the deluxe room asked me to join them in some morning yoga. Why not. I got some more sun, a little more soaking in the "healing waters." By 9:30am, I was ready to go back to marine layer. I drank a shot of wheat-grass and had some yogurt and was back on the desert highway.

Evil Twin #1 is part of the 99%

2011-10-18T16:30:00.003-04:00

When I was a junior, I had to take Contemporary Civilization with Professor Malefakis. Evil Twin #2 and I used to joke around that his name sounded evil. (Mal = Bad) Truth be told, he was an ass. He was the worst kind of bully, as he knew every possible way to get under the skin of his students. He called people names. He made one girl cry. He made one boy want to punch his face. He even tried to weird out Evil Twin #2 by asking her if she wanted a penis, when discussing Freud. Evil Twin #2, having not said more than five words all semester, was caught off guard, which is exactly what this guy wanted.

Every class he would draw a nonsensical diagram of the thought of the day. A switchback funnel was a diagram of political ideologies. Sticks was a Hobbesian view on a society. If you discount my weirdly eidetic memory for lectures, one diagram stood above the rest. It was a bunch of rectangles and the need to get rid of feudalism. The fundamental idea was this: the consolidation of goods under the control of a few makes little room for the exchange of goods, and the lack of movement of people throughout the society.

I think Malefakis and I have a lot in common. I draw terrible pictures and cannot always convey what I am thinking to those around me. My friend, who is against the Occupy movement, has been particularly snarky about it, so I desperately have been trying to explain why I think they have a point. But I might as well be drawing a bunch of rectangles for all she cares. Most statuses on Facebook have been "Occupy my bed" or "Occupy France." However, like Malefakis, I will be oblivious to the naysayers continue to spew my ideas.

Fundamentally, I love the idea of Wall Street. A company or a person with a great idea, product, or service, sells shares of itself. The company gets increased capital and they get to expand and sell their widgets to a broader audience. Fabulous.

Somehow this beautiful thing went off the rails. Only a fraction of the companies listed in the NYSE participate in giving investors dividends. At some point, all stocks became entirely based on its potential to grow. According to Morning Star, a company that is in the red but has the potential to be 4 times bigger in 2 years is worth more than one that will have a steady profit margin of 17% every year. For a company to even stay afloat in the stock market, they have to do something extraordinary every quarter. Stock prices seem to fluctuate more on rumor than fact. Also, this phenomenon meant short term solutions started having a large impact. Google can shift one of its headquarters to Ireland and for those first few quarters profits went up immensely. This increase was not a result of making a better search engine, but finding a loopholes in existing rules.

But what is the true added value for all these things? Does the actuary, who discovers they can move all their jobs to India and save the company 20% truly add value? The new class of CEOs remind me a lot of the corporate raiders of the 80's. Does that add value? According to Wall Street right now, the answer is yes. The bottom line is those changes made the company more profitable for a few quarters. Our excuse is they deserved it for being clever and ruthless. Really? We are now rewarding people for excessive greed and short-sightedness. And that does not create a better environment for innovation, which I propose is the true value we are all seeking.

But let's take a more Machiavellian approach to this problem. Not everyone can be immensely rich, nor is it bad to be immensely rich. No one wants to squash that drive and ambition. By keeping the disparity between wealthy and the rest of the population to a manageable limit, the wealthy can still enjoy their moneys without a bunch of un-showered protesters. Listen, let's aim to be more German than Greek. Just sayin'.

This morning, I went down to Occupy San Diego. The participants looked homeless. They were a lot punk kids talking about how disillusioned they were. They seemed lazy and obnoxious. I brought coffee and donuts, as it was cold and foggy today. They were totally ungrateful. But here is the biggest lesson I learned. Sometimes the biggest assholes, like Malefakis and the protesters, have a point. Wall street sucks right now, and something has to change.

I am Evil Twin #1, and I am part of the 99%.

Adventures in Dating

2011-08-19T09:52:00.005-04:00

Dating. Ugh. I have been dreading it, and with good reason. Unlike Evil Twin #1, who has been telling me that it's fun to date and meet all sorts of men, I am not a fan of first dates. So, I decided to ease back into the dating world, reluctantly agreeing to let a friend set me up on a blind date. I had never been on a blind date before and wasn't quite sure what to expect. Given all the warning signs, I should have been prepared for a train wreck, but naively thought it couldn't be so bad (at a minimum, I'd be able to salvage a half-way decent post out of it). I was in no way ready for how sad/crazy this poor guy would be.

Surefire Ways to Blow A First Date:

1. Send your prospective date a crazy 9 paragraph email (opening with "Greetings and salutations" then misspelling my name) about yourself, noting that you went to private schools your whole life [who cares] and you just got out of a 6 year relationship that ended because you gave your ex-girlfriend an ultimatum to get married [umm...].

2. Failing to grammar check said email. Everyone should know when to use "a" versus "an" and proper subject/verb agreement. Also, one looks forward TO something, not IN something. Signing your email, "Looking forward in meeting you" doesn't make any sense. I am a lawyer. I am unforgiving about that stuff.

3. When making plans to meet, just telling your date where and when to meet instead of phrasing things in a way that makes it clear that you are open to modifying the place/time. Personally, I like to be consulted on some level. I don't like people telling me what to do.

4. During the date:

mentioning (again) why you broke up with your ex;
describing yourself repeatedly as a "foodie" and trying to impress me with the places you've "discovered" (along with just about everyone else that reads eater.com);
telling me that you bought an apartment in Bronxville for the excellent school system because you can't wait to have kids (this is perhaps better saved for a second or third date); and
sharing that you are barely making your mortgage payments because your company has been cutting back, and you have been forced to take a part time job at Macy's to make ends meet. Then noting that the discount is great!

Honestly, if my friend hadn't set this whole thing in motion weeks ago, I would have bailed. Seeing as she took the time to do so, I felt obligated to at least show up, eat a decent meal and work on my conversation skills. I am tempted to give this guy notes on what to do differently going forward -- at the rate he's going, he's likely to scare off every lady he meets. I feel kind of bad for him.

I guess the upside of going on this date is that it made me feel far more sane and emotionally well adjusted in comparison. It also confirmed that I am right and Evil Twin #1 is wrong -- blind dates aren't for everyone.

take your child to work day

2011-04-28T16:09:00.002-04:00

Today is the official "Take your child to work day." The labs and office area are teaming with children. They are frightening. I caught myself saying the eff word twice and changed it to fudge just in time. I also have run over two of them today as I was trying to open the door. What can I say except that children frighten me. And the combination of children, caustic chemicals and biological agents scares me even more.

Another Year...

2011-04-21T11:38:00.003-04:00

"This year may provide great travel opportunities. Go to places you never thought you'd go. Open your heart to new experiences, new relationships and new interpretations of what abundance is. Discover your own wealth." -- My horoscope for today, AMNewYork

Today is my 35th Birthday. As some of you may know, I love birthdays -- other people's birthdays, not so much my own. This one is especially tough. At 35, I am solidly middle-aged and am recovering from a break up that has truly put me through the proverbial emotional wringer (who knew I had so many tears to shed?). How's that for down in the dumps?

Reading my horoscope on my commute to work this morning reminded me that this year could be my best one yet. Going through each line of my fortune, I realized: (i) I have already traveled a great deal (San Antonio, Boston, Baltimore, the Turks and Caicos Islands, and the Connecticut countryside thus far (not bad for the first 4 months of the year), and Santo Domingo, DR next month); (ii) I had one of my best meals from the parking lot of a strip club (didn't expect that, but yum! pit beef!) in Baltimore; (iii) 2011 will be the year that I finally learn how to swim, so that I complete my first triathlon (that's definitely a new experience!), I am not quite ready to open my heart to new relationships, but I know I'll get there eventually, and over the past few weeks (during which I have been riding an emotional roller coaster), I was reminded that I am very lucky to have an abundance of incredibly supportive and wonderful friends; and (iv) my own wealth resides in what I already have.

So, here's to my 35th year, and to all that lies ahead. Looking forward to seeing what you have in store for me!

An excuse to post an embarrassing photo.

2011-04-16T14:26:00.004-04:00

Happy Birthday to me ... a little late. Two weekends ago, I turned 35. A frightening thought to be middle aged, sans a husband, children, pets and a steady income. I am starting to get frown lines, and the other day was wondering if I should look into that Restalin. Am already in an Obagi pact with my sister, so I feel like adding a few more cosmetic procedures.

To cheer me up, Evil Twin #2 came down from NYC. And as always the events were epic. The whole weekend started out so innocent. Two girls getting crab cakes and going to bed at 11pm on a Friday night. Even the next day was fairly wholesome. ET#2 and I, went to the National Gallery of Art to see the Gauguin exhibit. Sure he was really pervy, but it was art right? We had lunch with friends, a trip to the Cowgirl Creamery. We even had a romantic stroll around the Tidal basin to see the Cherry blossoms. Yup. The whole weekend was going to be wholesome and very middle sized city American.

It all started down the dark dangerous path of liquor , when ET#2 and I started talking about feelings. Yes, that is right feelings. And in the midst of feelings, ET#2 said such a strange thing. "Let's go have a beer with your friends at the bar." Strange, because ET#2 is not really a beer drinker. Sure a glass of wine here or there, or maybe a very fancy fruity cocktail, but not so much beer.

So we go to my bar across the street. We get greeted by everyone. Sweet. And we start on our one beer. Well that idea went totally out the window after the first lemon drop shot. It became a flurry of alcohols, and crude stories. I abandoned ET#2 with my gay closeted neighbor, and they were giggling away at stuff. My friend from down the street convinced us to karaoke with him. As you can see why things snowballed. At the karaoke bar, I was passed a number of shots called Leviticus (actually it is called vitytus, but it was a crazy night). Drinking leviticus was best described by the twenty year old barristo I know, "It is like having a million cinnamon hot bears doing a russian folk dance in your head." ET#2 and I proceeded to sing a number of duets and stumble home.

The next morning I remembered why I don't drink to excess. I wanted to poke my eyes out and rip out my stomach. ET#2 played it cool. She had on her shades both indoors and outside, and even managed some lip gloss. We both felt like this guy below except luckily both of us were too hungover to take pictures.

Best news evah

2011-01-10T14:18:00.002-05:00

It has often been said (by myself) that I am unruly, odd and loud, due to being the youngest child. My parents were older (close to my age now) when they had me. My sister who is 7 years older, often told stories about her parents, who seemed to not resemble mine at all. Her parents gave her shoulder rides, chased her around the yard, and had weekly zoo trips. Mine were more about Dad's napping because he has lumbego, quiet story time, and golf lessons.

A few years ago, I remember having a serious discussion with my sister. How to take care of our parents as they got older. It was one of those serious moments full of awkward pauses and awkward jokes to alleviate the tension of the moment. My parents' had living wills in place, my sister was planning on building a mother-in-law apartment in her house, and I took over some of my parent's accounts just to make sure nothing too crazy was happening. It was a very adult and somber moment in our lives.

A few years ago, my Dad was diagnosed with chronic kidney disease. He had a long history of hypertension and 70 years after birth his kidneys decided they were tired. The physicians told us there was little that could be done. None one in his immediate family was a compatible match and he was a little too old to be on the top of any organ donor list. We were told he had about 5 years. Probably, the hardest hit was my mother. She was registered nurse before she retired and took over my dad's care. But it was exhausting, and she is no spring chicken. My sister and I tried to hire a part time nurse, but they would not have it. The whole thing was spiralling. I even thought about taking a job in California, just to monitor the situation. My sister with three kids of her own, was getting overwhelmed.

I flew home for the Christmas holidays my tradition over the past 21 years. As soon as I walked into my sister's house it was chaos, kids climbing on top of me, my parents asking me about my love life, my brother-in-law asking me about work. I'll admit, I was feeling a little Grinchy. After arriving to California at 11pm, My nieces and nephew woke me up Christmas morning at 5:30am. Yup, this Emo (aunt in korean) was one grumpy grumpster.

My dad was not much better. He also was woken up by jumping children. He could not eat my mom's chocolate b-day cake (too much phosphorus) and most importantly, he had not had a good bowel movement in two days because my youngest niece likes to follow him around and stand outside of the bathroom door saying "uh oh."

Anyway, the next morning my parents left pretty early in the morning. I decided to stay, my present to my sister being watching her kids for a few days. But we got this call about an hour later. "Dad, just got a kidney. We have to fly to Kansas City."

It was like all happy made more TV movies rolled up into one. We bought my parents a ticket to Kansas City, and my brother-in-law (BIL) and I drove up to my parents' house. My parents were all a flutter when we saw them. What were the chances of a 74 year old man getting a six point match for a kidney the day after Christmas? Who knows.

On the way to airport, my dad turned to my BIL and said "twenty years, no problem."

no means no!

2010-12-06T11:35:00.004-05:00

An unfinished post from December, but it seems appropriate with the impending AFC championship game coming up.

I went to the bar across the street from my house 5 times last week. 5 times. That is excessive for even me. But somehow that is the way it worked. The bonus of my excessive patronage is getting to go to the Ravens game last night.

Being a frequent flyer at this establishment, means multiple phone calls and texts when there is something shaking in the neighborhood. Saturday night was one of the bartenders going away party. So even though I had been there Thursday night, I made it back for a few beers, and perhaps a shot or two or three which I just seem to be remembering now two day later. But in my slightly inebriated stage, I do remember listening to the owner of the bar (BO) tell how he just got dumped. Hmmmm so who was going to the Ravens' game? Even though it was S's (another frequent flyer's) turn to go with the owner, they all graciously gave me the ticket. Score!

The Pittsburgh Steelers versus the Baltimore Ravens was a much anticipated game. A fight for the division title, and a Sunday night featured game, I was one of 71,000 people pouring into M&T stadium. Pittsburgh and Baltimore have a deep seeded rivalry. Both are blue collar towns with dying industries. Both towns have weird accents. And most importantly, the towns are 3 hours apart; far enough for a rivalry close enough to visit for away games.

The night was cold and clear. I had to borrow a puffy jacket from my neighbor, who was perhaps more excited than I was. BO is a a big guy. He is 6'4 and my guess is he weighs about 250; maybe more. And I was lucky to have him, as he carved a way through the crowds.

BO has season tickets, which means he knows all the people who sit around him. Hmmmm. How do I say this delicately? I can't. Baltimore has a lot of white trash football fans. I mean very trashy. The lady sitting behind us passed out half way into the first quarter. Then her boyfriend had to take her to the men's room to throw up.

I thought I talked like a sailor, but I had nothing on these football fans. I heard enough homosexual derogates, cusses, and inexplicable sexual acts involving animals to last a life time. It also was a sport for all those sitting nearby me to lift me up. I think they found that entertaining. Big bear hugs to the strange Asian girl.

Throughout the game there were many fights. The most impressive being two guys going at it and no spilling a drop of beer. Truly amazing.

As for the game play on the field there was not much to write about. Just like the most recent playoff game, the Ravens were ahead and lost their lead in the second half. They played with no urgency. Every time Big Ben took the field, everyone shouted "No means no!" But sadly in the end, the Ravens got manhandled like a girl in a bathroom with Big Ben's bodyguards watching on.

Further confirmation ET#1 is a middle aged man

2010-11-30T16:49:00.005-05:00

I have been balding since college. My ponytail has shrunk. Every night I lament the clump of hair caught by my special hair catcher on my shower drain that I bought so I can count the number of hairs I lose every day. I constantly obsess about my white scalp peeking through. And when I sweep my house, I contemplate super gluing the hairs I find back on my head. My stop gap solution (like any middle aged man) was to grow my hair long and hope that if I wrap my single strand of hair around my head enough times no one would notice.

My mother who was sick of hearing me complain about it, once took me to a Korean herbalist. He told me I had too much yang/heat in my body, and gave me a vile concoction to drink for 2 months. But alas, I am still balding.

My obsession comes with a lot of internet research. A few years ago Matt Lauer turned me onto this device. According to the segment on whatever news show he hosts, this thing was supposed to have okay results. Okay? Well, okay is better than weeping at my shower drain, or having horrible dandruff from the generic female rogaine I tried for 3 months. But here was the catch: $600 price tag. Was my vanity worth $600? Do I buy myself a laser comb before I buy myself a television? What was a girl with OCD to do?

Today as I was purchasing the last of the Christmas gifts for my nieces and nephew, I thought I deserved a bauble of my own. Over the years I had done a lot of internet research and realized that the Hairmax laser comb is just a few red LED lights.

In attempt to be frugal, I searched for other sources of red LED lights. I found a red LED lamp for 20 dollars. Wooohooo! How exciting. Finally, I was going to have luscious locks of hair spilling down my shoulders.

The catch on this endeavour: apparently the lamp I purchased is used to grow more buds on a marijuana plant.

I had images of myself being watched by the FBI a la "the Wire." Maybe they would think a new "player" was in town. Or worse how would I explain to the DEA agents that would breakdown my door, that the supplies I purchased via the internet was to grow hair not pot? I'll tell you all in 1-2 weeks when my lamp is delivered.

Why I love working with foreigners

2010-10-22T16:38:00.002-04:00

In the world of science, I am an anomaly. Okay maybe that is not entirely true. I am Asian so physically I blend in really well. But here is how I manage to stick out: I was born in the United States, educated in the United States, and got my Ph.D. in the United States. Oh and English is my first and only language, a rarity in my workplace.

Subjects Americans find taboo are not in other countries, and they are horrified what we manage to say. Sometimes you get fascinating things told to you like today.

Indian Postdoc: So now that if they let the gay people in the military, will they have to create 4 separate bathrooms?

Evil Twin #1: What?

IP: Don't you have separate bathrooms in this country because of sexual modesty?

ET#1: Ummm no. I think it is because men are gross.

IP: Men are gross? no no no no no no. My wife tells me she cannot even go to the bathroom on this floor because it is sooo disgusting. And it is all women, right?

ET#1: Oh she is right, this bathroom is disgusting. But if men were allowed in it would be even worse.

IP: What do you mean? All my friends who are men have very clean bathrooms. Come to my house and you will see how clean our bathroom is. Men's public bathrooms are dirty because men urinate standing. But at home we sit down.

ET#1: huh? What? Most men I know urinate standing up. I know my dad does.

IP: Why would you do that? At home the seat is clean, and you do not have to touch your penis unnecessarily. When you stand up it is so unsanitary. Urine can splash everywhere. When we have male friends spending time at our house, I explain the sitting down, and everyone does it.

The conversation continued for a little bit, but I was blown away at the astute logic. Now I just wonder how many men would follow it....

Another one bites the dust

2010-10-20T12:53:00.002-04:00

You get to a certain age, when dating escapades are no longer funny. I think I am at that age. I stopped telling friends and family when I am seeing a new boy because I don't want to tell or explain to them about the inevitable fall out.

So it was unusual when I told every one about the new boy. I had a nice feeling about him. Sure he owns several guns, he hunts, he has cats that I am high allergic too, it took him 6 years to get a communications degree at a liberal arts college I never heard of, he only owns the 5th best bar (ie 2nd tier) in Baltimore according to the Sun, and he smokes a shit ton of weed to clean his house. But besides all of his flaws, I genuinely liked him. He was sweet and brought me dinner because he knew I was always hungry. He called/texted me every night I did not see him, just to say good night. He remembered my love of ye olde people and drove me out to Harpers Ferry to see them. And when he gave me a hug, I did not object nor did I attempt to squirm away. Yup the boy made me all giggles and that is probably a sure tell tale sign that it would crash and burn.

On Saturday, he saw me run my section of the Baltimore Marathon relay. Then we went for a bike ride around Baltimore. We ate epanadas and split 6 of them evenly, 4 for me 2 for him. We saw some swing dancers on the Pier so we joined them for a few songs. We rode up to a Russian festival, and watched all the Russians with fascination. We rode to a helicopter pad (clearly his thing not mine) and watched a bunch of boughie people fly into Baltimore and get into limos. It was pretty fantastic. We went to go get beers, and a little pregaming before the Giants vs. Phillies game.

Here is where the bad news come in:
"Ummm Evil Twin #1, I am going to Key West on Wednesday."

"Oh really. Awesome. You are going to have the best time as long as you don't get stuck in a hurricane."

"I going with this girl I dated right before you. [long dating story but that can be summarized by he never broke up with this girl even though he thinks he did] Anyway we had planned this trip before I even met you. I just wanted to be honest with you because I did not think things would be going so well between the two of us. I mean you are great. [more long dragged on crap about why he might have some problems]"

"Excuse me [I say to the bartender], I am going to need a few shots of whiskey here. Neat and as fast as you can."

After this point much of the night was a blur. Apparently, according to my fave bartender I got belligerent, told every one in the bar that the new boy was going to Key West with another girl, and then proceeded to yell at the TV because I had no idea who Cody Ross was. I, also, allegedly told the boy that I could go home with anyone at the bar and how would he feel about that. Clearly, once again not my finest hour. But if you were going to out you should go out swinging.

On Sunday, I woke up with a massive hangover and ended up going to work, mass, and pumpkin carving with a bunch of inner city youths as a sort of punishment.

He texted me to see if I was alright:

NB: How are you feeling today? You were quite the handful last night.

Me: I had a productive day. Thank you for asking.

I talked to the other wiser Evil Twin, and she convinced me to talk to him while I was sober.

That was a disastrous 1 hour conversation. Let me disseminate the highlights:

He says that I am unreasonable to think he would even consider canceling this trip because plans were made before I met him. What is the big deal about him going, because he was not planning on sleeping with this girl. Why did I lie (on Saturday) about lining up a bunch of dates with better looking guys when he is gone? He should get bonus points for being honest with me because he could have easily lied about the trip. He will call me when he gets back from Florida, because hopefully by then I will be more rational.

I tell him, he is an ass. How does he not realize that this woman think that this is a romantic getaway? Being honest is the minimum you can do for someone not something for a bonus prize. I tell him thanks for exposing me to my biggest insecurity about being cheated on, I much appreciate that. Oh and have a great trip and I am saying this not because I mean it but because there is nothing left to say.

Back to the drawing board for this Evil Twin. Back to the dating and not telling anyone about it, because really it just is not funny anymore.

Naming contest

2010-09-27T15:11:00.002-04:00

I'm not sure if anyone reads this blog anymore. I hope so. I need your help. In night of debauchery, I met a boy and he needs a name. Let's skip all the gruesome deatils of a drunken hook-up which led to an awkward morning, which led to some odd texting, which led to a nice walk, which led to a fancy 5 course meal (he made), which led to planning a future date, all in a span of less than 72 hours.

Here is the most important point: what shall I name him? In the past, every boy I have liked has had a CB handle. For example, the astrophysicist (or out of this world), Ozzy fan, the leprechuan, the leader of the pack, the roton, erkel .... How will I disparage this boy in a week, when I start to dislike him?

Rules for naming boys usually get at their deepest insecurieties. Being an Evil Twin, normally, it is quite easy to suss this out. However, I am a little stumped this week. I don't really know much about him but here is what I do know:

Profession - DJ/photographer/bartender
Ethnicity - half-chinese half irish
Overall apearance - nothing remarkable neither cute, nor fat, nor skinny nor tall, nor bald, etc..
Personality - I'm guessing he currently does or at least did smoke a lot of pot. He also, seems to have a lot of artist friends.
Pets - three cats
Ominous fact - he lives across the street from me

We prefer names that are funny, when possible, and mean as a fall back. Winner to get a special Baltimorean prize.

2010-08-07T17:25:00.003-04:00

Evil Twin #1 enters Ace Hardware.

Sales Clerk: Can I help you find something today, Ma'am?

ET#1: Yes, I am looking for small pruning shears.

Sales Clerk: Right this way. [He points to a number of shears] What exactly are you trimming? Is it woody or is it green stems?

ET#1: Green. It's a tomato plant.

Sales Clerk: Then just use scissors.

ET#1: I don't own those either.

Sales Clerk: Hmmm. Our scissor collection is pretty laughable but I think a pair of meat shears is pretty all purpose. How about these? How big are the stems?

[ET#1 makes and "o" with her thumb and index finger.]

Sales Clerk: Are you sure you have a tomato plant? That sounds more like cannibis to me?

ET#1: Really? I have yet to have a single tomato this season. My neighbor told me that was because it was too hot this summer. Do the two plant look a lot alike? Do you think Seed Savers would have sent me the wrong seeds?

Sales Clerk: Yeah. They look a lot a like, but I'm sure you have the right plant. Worst comes to worst you can always start a side business. haha.

ET#1 gives a disapproving look. She buys one pair of meat shears and hurries home to wiki cannibis.

Things to avoid late at night

2010-07-29T21:57:00.003-04:00

1) Internet shopping. Otherwise you can be the proud owner of 6 X 1 lb bags of gourmet heirloom beans (even though you don't cook), a meditation bracelet, an assorment of japanese beauty products (the most odd being something called UV cut sleeves. sleeves to wear to prevent your arms from tanning when you drive), tickets to see Lillith Fair on a weeknight, a dress that make you look like an Air France stewardess, and 8 paperbacks from your Amazon suggested reading list.

2) Texting, calling, emailing, or smoke signals of any kind. You can be perfectly sober, but the late hour will alarm every one who will assume you are wasted.

3) Talking to your plants. Perhaps you will get caught by one your neighbors who is trying to calm a fussy baby, and forever get weird looks from him.

4) Watching television on Youtube. TV shows on Youtube are divided into 10 minute segments so constantly need to click on the next scene. I am sure there is a way around this, but perhaps with all your advanced degrees, common technologies befuddle you.

5) Cooking. It is possible that everytime you cook, you set off your smoke detector, which in turn wakes up your neighbor that has a newborn.

6) Going for a walk. Say for example, you live in Baltimore, and you discover that there are a lot of shady dealings going on late at night. And you see a guy flashing his girlfriend's butt to the whole street. Then he signals to you, and you have no idea how to respond but to wave hello.

TV without a television review

2010-07-20T12:31:00.004-04:00

How is it possible to fritter one's life away on TV programs without owning a television set? It is kind of easy. My poor computer is completely overloaded every day by hours of streaming video. I worship on the altar of Hulu for providing me my shows. And yay for Hulu because you can watch it without actively fiddling with the computer. CBS, CWTV and TNT really suck in comparison, although strangely Lifetime.com is pretty good.

Another quirk about my television addiction is that I love horrible horrible horrible programming. This love translates into watching a lot more "alternative programming" provided in the summer and winter and less content during the normal season. Case in point: I am currently watching a lot of shows on the USA network, which are not good enough to compete either on a major network, nor during the normal season.

So here is a list of shows to be watching off season in order of my "enjoyability" factor:

Justified (FX/Hulu.com) - The 13 show season has already ended, but it was great. Think of Walker, Texas Ranger but with a much cuter lead actor. Everyone speaks in slow soft drawls, both calming and scary all at once. A must see!

Leverage (TNT/tnt.tv) - Heist movies are the best. Heist television shows comes to a close second. Every week this team of misfit Robin Hoods pull off the impossible. Think the A-team minus the guns.

Drop Dead Diva (Lifetime/Lifetime.com) - Okay. I can't believe I am watching this show, and even worse, liking it. Aspiring model dies and is reincarnated into an overworked lawyer with Margaret Cho as her assistant. Think Heaven Can Wait and the Mary Tyler Moore Show with a chubby lead actress.

Burn Notice(USA/Hulu.com) - I sort of find all USA shows sort of interchangeable. Wisecracking, a little bit of action and Gabrielle Anwar rocking a bikini like no forty something should. Think Mission Impossible minus the government and a more violent version of Peter Graves.

So You Think You Can Dance (Fox/Hulu.com) - This would be ranked much higher if Alex Wong did not get eliminated so early on and if Mary was still judging. Think American Idol but less bitchy and more talented.

White Collar (USA/Hulu.com) - Matt Bomer. Am not sure what the show is about, except to look lovingly into the eyes of Matt Bomer and imagine our beautiful mix raced babies. Think Matt Bomer in incredibly well tailored suits.

Honorable mention goes to Minute to win it (NBC/Hulu.com) as long as you can scroll over all the human interest parts and just watch the challenges. Honorable mention also goes to Memphis Beat (TNT/tnt.tv) with Jason Lee being a little overly quirky, am not sure if it will get stale quickly.

Disappointments have been a plenty this off season. Eureka (Syfy/Hulu.com) is no longer funny because there seems to be a loss of the science puns, and Psych (USA/Hulu.com), which has dialed down the wisecracking. Top Chef (Bravo/illegal torrents) has been lackluster as well.

So beat the heat, and be a pasty nerd clinging to your macbook pro like me!

Just the facts

2010-07-15T14:43:00.002-04:00

Last weekend, Evil Twin #2 and A came to visit me in Baltimore. Here is a summary of our weekend.

Food/drink consumed:
- Pit beef and pit ham sandwiches and sides.
- Beer.
- French pastries.
- Crab cakes, raw oysters, chicken wings, and soda
- cookies.
- hush puppies, beer and el Jimador.
- MD steamed jumbo crabs and steamed corn.
- melon popsicles, peaches, blueberries, and mayo tomato sandwich.
- deep fried oyster mushrooms with cheese hot sauce and mesclun, apricots, meat on a stick, thai tea.
- green papaya salad, fresh rolls, and valicious pork.
- beer.

Sites visited:
- Illusions
- The Cop Shop
- Enoch Pratt Public Library
- Baltimore Cathedral
- Lexington Market
- Edgar Allen Poe's grave
- Annapolis
- 5 general stores
- Baltimore Farmer's Market
- Wegman's

Number of times ET#2 was asked to go to the stage as part of a magic act: 1
Number of Bear traps on that magic stage: 5

Number of borderline/closeted men we met: 2

Number of crab themed children's shirts purchased by A and ET#2: 5

Most awkward moment: Three of us eating french pastries while browsing through the guns and other police items sold at the cop shop

Most phallic thing purchased: pink pepper spray

Most missed item: CD with John Hodgeman saying "CRABS!'

Least delicious item tasted: el Jimador

Thanks, ladies for a fabulous weekend.

Addendum
I drove out to see B, in Frederick, on Monday.
Food consumed: 1 large hawaian pizza loaded with local pork products. beer.
times we laughed about something nonsensical: 4
Times I got lost in the dark: 2

My mother is a covert operative

2010-07-08T17:46:00.002-04:00

Russian spies, you ain't got nothing on my momma.

Yesterday, I was on the phone with my mother. She had a nice July 4th. My parents went to go hang out with my sister's family, it was my niece's birthday. My niece is cute. My niece still wants to be a scientist like me. Wouldn't it be nice if she could visit my children? She and Dad were tired from their trip, so they missed the 4th of July celebration. Morgan Hill had a parade for the 4th. Wasn't it nice to live in a small town like Morgan Hill? She wished she could have seen the parade. She did laundry instead. My Dad was outside. Did I want to talk to him? Oh he is busy. They are going golfing tomorrow morning. She just did laundry but has to do more. Golfing everyday produces a lot of dirty clothes. Maybe they will visit the Lao's for dinner tomorrow.

Twenty minutes into our conversation, I was lulled into a constant stream of "uh huh's" and "oh really's." I had a nice 4th of July. Yes, I really did teach a bunch of 5-8 year olds to light matches. Then I asked her a pretty routine question, "How much do I owe you all for gas this month?" My parents had given me their gas card when I moved to Baltimore. My dad, long retired, gets an employee discount from Exxon, but recently all the Exxon station in Northern California shut down. They said someone need to be using this discount, so it was my job to take it. Every month, I send them a check, and every month it never gets cashed.

But routine was broken a little this day. "Evil Twin#1, you work too much. You've been using less gas, and you fill on Eastern Ave. too much. I know that is convenient for you because it is close to lab. You are young, you need to go out more."

"Huh?" I said. But she remembers Eastern Ave. when she came to Baltimore. Did I remember the time we first saw the lab together. Wasn't it funny when Dad did not recognize the drug deal? Maybe they will come and visit again. Dad cannot eat crabs because they are too salty. She likes Dungeness crabs more than Blue crabs. Korean people though like to pickle blue crabs.

Sure she is in her seventies, but she still has some mad skills with the tracking and the distracting. Maybe Putin can hire her. I heard he has some openings in the KGB.

Elena Kagan, Janet Reno, and me

2010-06-28T15:31:00.005-04:00

In her bright royal blue suit, coiffed short hair, and bright coral lipstick, Elena Kagan is testifying in front of a Senate committee. Her even tone is only imagined, as I read the live blogging notes on cnn.com.

I have little patience for all of this information, I will read summary later tonight. And like all things on this blog, this post really is not about her, it is about me.

A few weeks ago, after the nomination Elena Kagan's sexuality was brought into question. She is a woman in her 50s, never been married. The pundits said it was important to know, because it is directly related to her opinions about the current "don't ask, don't tell" policy. Really? Whatever, this post is not about the ridiculous nature of many political pundits.

All of this talk about Kagan's sexual orientation, made me flashback to an interview with Janet Reno. Janet Reno was also wearing a royal blue suit jacket at the time. But the part that struck me was her stating how she loved men but it was hard to find a date. There was a sadness in her eyes as if she had answered this very question a million times before.

What is Kagan supposed to do? There is no good recourse for her.

I think about these things, because I see it happening to me more and more often. I went to go visit a friend's parents this weekend. They are awesome, but their first question was "are you seeing anyone?" No one, except my father, has designated me to being a lesbian yet, but I cannot imagine those are not far behind.

In fact, it is the first question I often get from most people I meet. Even my closest friends, seem to always try to push me towards this coupledom. And I always feel prickly when responding. Part of me feels as if I have let people down. Part of me is weary from answering the question so many times. Part of me wants to have to justify my life decisions. Part of me wants to tell them about my brushes with heartache. Part of me wants to show them all the other things I have accomplished without a man. But all that would be too much to unleash on someone. So I answer, like always do, "maybe one day."

But I think about Janet Reno and Elena Kagan. Here are two women who accomplished so much more than I have or will, but still that is the first question that they got. I wonder at the age of 50 if it is just as tiresome as it is at 34.

Tophat and Tails

2010-06-15T17:30:00.004-04:00

This is a story about my peeps. We are a musical people.

Boot Camp

2010-05-26T16:24:00.002-04:00

I am incredibly sore. So sore that I walk down stairs like an old lady, gripping the handrail for dear life, for fear that my legs will buckle. Why am I practically crippled? Because I had my first session of boot camp last night. It was 90 minutes of non-stop squats, lunges, push ups and jumping jacks in the middle of Central Park. That being said, the workout was really good. It KICKED my butt, but I wasn't the only one gasping for breath and collapsing during some of the drills. I'd say I'm in the middle of the pack. Only 5 more sessions to go (it meets on Tuesday and Thursday for 3 weeks).

Why in God's name did I sign up for this? Because I have been very lazy, and also because I have 2 weddings to go to this summer and need to fit into a bridesmaid's dress. A fuchsia and champagne colored bridesmaid's dress. Sigh...

Houston

2010-05-12T15:07:00.015-04:00

They say that everything is bigger down in Texas. After a short weekend visit to Houston, TX, I can whole-heartedly stand behind that statement. Cars are bigger in Texas (I had requested a compact car, but somehow ended up with a very large sedan), highways are bigger in Texas (at least 6 lanes of traffic for me to weave through), portions are bigger in Texas (there is a reason why Houston is one of the fattest cities in the country), and the Vietnamese population is bigger in Texas than in NYC or Boston (resulting in excellent Vietnamese food -- see photo at right).

We only had 2.5 days in Houston, arriving around midnight on Friday, and leaving around noon on Monday. The reason for this trip? Because the BF and I are both thrifty -- I had an expiring airline companion certificate, and he found a FANTASTIC deal for the Four Seasons in Houston (only $125/night!). So, what did we do during our short trip? Some lounging by the pool, a visit to Johnson Space Center (NASA), wandering around Rice Village, and seeing some really quirky outsider folk art. And, interspersed with all of the preceding, LOTS of food. Texas sized portions of food. We also saw some interesting signage while in Houston:

1. Outside of a relatively upscale looking restaurant in Rice Village. I guess this means that this is a problem, hence the sign telling people what NOT to bring into the restaurant.

2. This is the name of an overpriced pregnant mom/kids clothing store (also in Rice Village). It seems that in Texas, a woman's work consists of the 3Bs: Babies, Birth and Breastfeeding. Looks like I'll have to get a move on if I want to do a good job!

3. We saw this sign at "The Orange Show" which was totally random, but really fun to visit. Houston postman Jeff McKissack created The Orange Show in honor of his favorite fruit and to illustrate his belief that longevity results from hard work and good nutrition. This guy was a real fruitcake who really loved oranges. It makes for some interesting and very whimsical folk art.

I mentioned earlier that we ate a LOT of food. Here are some photos from Ragin' Cajun. It is crawfish season. Super messy, but also super yummy!

Happy Birthday, Evil Twin #2!

2010-04-21T12:03:00.000-04:00

A Birthday Tune

2010-04-02T11:29:00.002-04:00

Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Biiiiiirthday, dear ET#1, Happy Biiiiirthday tooooo youuuuuuuu!!!

Overly sensitive

2010-03-30T15:38:00.003-04:00

For all you Columbia Allumni reading this blog, why was I offended by this story? CC was my first choice, but did that mean I was a slacker?

Crazy spinster vs. cute eccentric

2010-01-20T16:16:00.009-05:00

Remember being 10 and staring at your art teacher with her stringy hair, bohemian skirts, and kenya bags? Ever wonder how she was thirty and single, because wasn't everyone supposed to be married? Ms. G taught me how to swear in Arabic, she would crack wise, and was always ready with a wink. She always told us to create with our hearts. I remember telling my best friend, S, "Ms. G is a huge weirdo."

For the past week, I have been thinking about taking an art class. This Christmas when my niece asked me to draw something, the only thing I knew how to draw well was a cartoon of a eukaryotic cell. (Her mom drew a bunch of bunny rabbits.) Which is why Ms. G came to mind.

If I met Ms. G today, I'm sure we would be friends. I would be amused by her quirkiness, and her earnestness would be refreshing. Or maybe not. Maybe she really is a huge weirdo.

The line between eccentric and crazy is hazy at best. Like when you go into Anthropologie, and you see a ruffled sweater; is it cute or dowdy? It straddles a hazy line and is in desperate need of context. Cute on Zooey Deschanel, but the same sweater would be dowdy on Meryl Streep.

I decided to take stock of some of my stranger habits: buying Mega Millions Lotto tickets in the scariest neighborhoods as soon as the jackpot is over 100 mil, making Fimo art for members of the Fantasy Football league, short selling stock as a revenge technique, obsessing about my hair loss, telling my students to create science with their hearts, etc.. My conclusion was to stay away from 10 year olds, I am sure I am a huge weirdo in their eyes.

What does "tar" mean?

2010-01-13T17:03:00.002-05:00

For those of you who know me well, I am not a texter. In fact, I banned texting from my phone for a while. But then I got the iPhone and well... my texting ban crumbled. Now I am like a giddy 15 year old, texting nonsensical crap all the time. Okay not really, but it is a dangerous tool to have.

One problem is that since I am new to texting I am unfamiliar with all the acronyms. Such as: u=you, nit=night, etc...

On the last Trivia night of 2009, my team celebrated our crushing loss with several bottles of wine. Probably a mistake to be drinking on a Monday night, but I knew I was flying out of town on Wednesday, so I had little to do at work the next day.

Sigh, alcohol. Why do you cause so many problems? And why, why must I keep consuming you?

What started out as a nice Trivia night, ended up in drunken bad behavior at another bar a few blocks down. A rowdier one in which pool and name calling and singing with the juke box came into play. And apparently a lot of texting did too.

Here is my drunken text conversation with the leprechaun that night:

Me: Who is on the 500 and 1000 dollar bill? [9:28pm]

Leprechaun: Cleveland on the $1000 - for sure

Leprechaun: Mckinley on the $500 - wow I am good

Leprechaun: Wud you say I am ur lifeline?

Me: Crap, we had to know the 100,000 bill. [9:49pm]

Leprechaun: Do you want that too? U are demanding.

Leprechaun: Woodrow Wilson - never actually released (tho they were printed in 1934)

Me: Thanks. We lost. We were trying to guess what the question would be. If we only knew wilson ahead of time....

Leprechaun: Too bad :(

Me: Good night. Am going to buy a christmas round for the boyz. [10:31 pm]

Leprechaun: Ur too cute. :) I mean it when I say, I am extremely happy to have you back in my life.

Me: Ps the gemtlemen says not with su n sets pix. Sunrissses is what you send youths. [12:05 am]

Leprechaun: Hmmmm.... so I shud send sunrises??? I can do that too!

Leprechaun: U def have been drinkin.

Me: Dr. Tony. says sruff it. Leave it fo othetrs. [12:42 am]

Leprechaun: :) Call me when you get home. Want to make sure u r safe. U r too funny. Nit, nit.

Me: Tar. [1:06 am]

Me via random phones at the seedy bar with pool tables: Tar.

Leprechaun: U okay? [6:24 am]

Leprechaun: [picture of sunrise over the Charles] This is 6:35 am in boston.

End conversation

Seriously, what the hell does "Tar" mean? Is it a texting acronym? Why was it necessary to send it? My only recourse now is to reinstate the texting ban, at the very least for certain individuals.

By the way, while you are answering the first questions could you answer this too? How does Pat Robertson know that Haiti made a pact with the devil 200 years ago? Is he in fact the Devil? How else could he possibly be such an authority on the subject?

Too much praise

2010-01-07T12:21:00.002-05:00

On some nights you will find me across the street, eating my dinner with a bunch of elderly divorced guys at the bar. The food is not especially good, but it is nice to have a place where everyone knows who you are. Yes, it is my version of "Cheers."

Old divorced guys are catty or cranky, depending how you want to spin it. Sometimes we gossip about local celebs or other old divorced guys that are not there. Sometimes we make fun of the young people who come into the bar. But most of the time we spend our time kvetching.

Next Monday, I know exactly what I am going to tell the gang: it irritates me that people at work are so insistent in saying "good job" to someone who just gave talk. It irritates me on multiple levels 1) I feel obligated to say the same because I don't want to look like a bitch. 2) Most of the time the talk is horrendous. 3) I am a really crappy liar. 4) When someone says "good job" to me I wonder about their sincerity. 5)In order to avoid being insincere myself, I end up saying nothing and look like a bitch, which gives me anxiety.

On today's Yahoo finance page, an opinion piece about job dissatisfaction amongst American workers increasing dramatically since 1987 caught my eye. Especially, this sentence: "The Millennial Generation is entering the workforce with expectations higher than any generations before them," Grant [a management professor at U Penn Wharton]says. "This generation is not accustomed to delaying gratification. They are interested in getting rewarded and succeeding very quickly, and most organizations aren't set up to do this. You could expect a decline in satisfaction for that reason."

Is it possible too that a sincere pat on the back has lost its luster? That we spend so much time being nice to each other that true praise no longer seems like a reward?

Good thing I have a bunch of cranky people to tell this observation to, I have a feeling they will agree.

And so ends another year, and what have I learned

2009-12-30T19:43:00.003-05:00

I am watching television from my couch, covered in blankets, surrounded by used tissues, and feeling a little nostalgic. Montage after montage flicker on the tv: best and worst of 2009, people who died, people who inspired, the economy.... Much has happened, but what can I take away? Is there always a lesson to be learned?

Incident:
In January, I make out with my student. Well, technically he was not my student because I stopped working in the lab earlier that night.
Lesson:
Anyone is fair game.

Incident:
In February, I sold all my stuff on Craigslist for the grand total of about $400. The rest of my worldly belongings fit in a half full minivan.
Lesson:
Freeing myself of stuff was pretty awesome. Pretty awesome, because I had nothing. Apparently, no matter how adult I pretend to be, I will always exist in a semi student sort of life.

Incident:
My facebook page started to gain speed. People from my elementary school days start to email me.
Lesson:
Amazing how little I have changed since I was 6.

Incident:
Moved to Baltimore. Spent a few months miserable, and desperately went to every all Ivy league event, every Groton reunion event, every community service event I could find.
Lesson:
The fundamental to making friends never changes. Basically, all it ever takes is a willingness to ask someone to be your friend, and then willing to spend awkward time with them until you become part of their everyday fabric.

Incident:
An old boyfriend begs to be forgiven and stalks me for a while.
Lesson:
It feels good to yell at people. No matter what your mother says, calling someone an ass and having them cry about it feels fantastic. It is also true, that time heals all wounds and my capacity to forgive is a lot larger than I thought.

Incident:
The move to Baltimore also let me experience two things from the past I loved and somehow over the years had left behind. This year, I joined a squash thing and a trivia team at my local bar.
Lesson:
I am a lot stupider and slower than I was 10 years ago.

Incident:
My boss pulled me into her office for our yearly evaluation.
Lesson:
Bosses can be great. They can actually guide you through your work and help you be a better and more efficient person.

Incident:
Joined a Fantasy Football league.
Lesson:
No matter how much research I do, I will always bomb the draft in these Fantasy games. Also, some boys take these things way too seriously.

Incident:
Stopped consistently posting.
Lesson:
I'm really lazy.

How Cute Are These Boots

2009-12-16T16:33:00.002-05:00

I watch a lot of TV. Even more so now that I DVR everything. I like to think of it as being more efficient -- I can speed through an hour long show in about 42 minutes since I fast forward through all of the commercials. There is one exception to this lately. The BF and I are highly entertained by the latest Gap Kids holiday commercial -- the one with the hyper little girls that "love my comfy sweater". We much prefer it to the one with "adults" dancing around in red and black plaid. I saw this today and can't stop giggling. Happy Holidays, indeed.

Evil Twins Take on Wire

2009-11-04T09:32:00.004-05:00

Did you miss us? A month and a half hiatus is a long time. I blame the poor blogging to my new schedule. Every Wednesday morning I have to present at a lab meeting leaving my Monday mornings stressed because I am trying to figure out how to cram a week's worth of work in two day. Excuses, excuses.

To prepare for her second trip to B'more, Evil Twin #2 watched season 2 of the "Wire." Actually, the true test of ET#2's preparedness was wearing and packing only pants that were either too big for her or that had an elastic waist.

Evil Twins have know each other for almost 15 years now and in this case familiarity breeds not the most interesting post. No longer are we going to get wasted and get hit on by some strange characters. We are no longer playing pranks on contemptible vegans. Yup, 15 years later, we are dare I say...adult like.

On Saturday, we had brunch and took a water taxi around the Inner Harbor. We walked the safer streets of Baltimore, and went for a leisurely drive to see the last of the fall color. After a brief pit stop, at the Korean supermarket, we parked the car and went for the main event: steamed crabs.

The walk to Obrycki's on Halloween night was a lot less scary had it been any other night of the year. As two small Asian ladies, we passed through a few unsavory neighborhoods unharrassed or mugged. We got to the restaurant and ordered. Within minutes of ordering, steamed crabs landed on our brown paper table cloths. We spent about 45 minutes in silence as we worked on our crabs. Perhaps we should have stopped at 3 crabs a piece, but we decided to split 4 more. Needless to say, it was too much. After a leisurely walk home with a brief stop at the ice cream store, ET#2 and I watched the only TV station I get: CBS.

It was a pretty perfect weekend.

Head scratchers

2009-09-22T13:00:00.002-04:00

America and chicken:
My Aunt and Uncle were in the area this past weekend. They are old and retired, and like to travel. This fall they wanted to do a tour of the American Northeast. They are German with very little English skills so they decided to take an organized bus tour. In 10 days, they went from NYC-Niagara Falls-Toronto-Ottawa-Quebec City-Montreal-Boston-NYC-Amish country-Washington DC. Phew. I am exhausted just typing it.

I drove down to Washington to see them. Their bus was about to leave for Alexandria, VA for dinner and the tour guide admonished them for missing out on such a wonderful place to visit. He, also, said they should not walk around because DC is very dangerous. I was about to call him a Nazi, but realized saying that in German has a whole different context then here in the US.

We had dinner in DuPont Circle instead. I asked what they wanted to eat and my Uncle replied "Italian." I, of course, ignored his request and got called a friend for a suggestion. "Hank's Oyster Bar," she said. So that is where we went. I told them that I was taking them to an American restaurant, and they seemed very apprehensive. We ordered some fantastic seafood and split them like tapas. My Uncle seemed relieved when he saw the food and had a huge smile on his face. My Aunt and Uncle started to laugh. "We were so worried. We had a lot of American food on this trip. We did not know Americans ate seafood."

[And here is the head scratcher] Then they asked "Why do Americans like chicken so much? There is chicken on the menu of every restaurant we have visited."

I had no answer. I was completely stumped. When I went to work yesterday I asked the everyone I work with (since only one of them besides me was born in the US), if they thought there was more chicken on the menus in the US, then in their countries. Everyone except the Indians said yes. And then they demanded an explanation why chicken was so popular here. Still answerless.

Cathy:
For some reason the Cathy comic strip has been in the forefront of my mind. I find myself saying "Ack!" a lot. I see imaginary heatwaves emanating from head. Complaining about housework that needs to be done. Having my mom say passive aggressive things to me about marriage and the way I dress.

Also, I have noticed it referenced in pop culture a lot more. There is a skit on SNL with one of the male actors in a Cathy costume saying things like he wants chocolate. Or in the show "Greek" when one characters says "You look like Cathy," and the reply by the other character was "Ack!"

I googled Cathy this morning to see what she was up to.

[Head scratcher] Cathy got married? What? Now the comic strip is based on the trials and tribulations of a newlywed couple.

Maybe it really is not that confusing, but I had no idea. It put my world in a tizzy.

FYA (For your amusement)

2009-09-02T13:58:00.005-04:00

Since I have been driving more, I have been noticing vanity plates. I used to think it was the most ridiculous thing on the planet. Now I am certain of it.

I saw this one this weekend. I'm pretty sure the irony was lost on the owner.

Under construction

2009-08-24T14:36:00.002-04:00

Poverty and racial inequality issues are far more prominent in Baltimore, than any other city in which I have lived. Maybe it because it is impossible to avoid as you drive from one yuppified section to another pocket of yuppiedom through some pretty tough neighborhoods. In cities like, Boston, New York, San Francisco and Chicago the stretches of "good parts" are connected so you can go years without seeing any problems.

I went to DC this weekend to celebrate A's birthday. A's sister lives near DuPont circle, and so that is where we started our day. We drank a pitcher of beer outside in an outdoor cafe, watching the white folk walk pass in their weekend dresses and khaki short uniforms. After some time in the Smithsonian, we trekked our way to the Metro to go to the DC Waterfront fish market. All in preparation of a special dinner for the birthday girl.

The joke goes: Two blond girls and an Oriental girl get off the Metro in a black neighborhood....

Actually, since moving to Baltimore, I have not felt as much paranoia as I once did, although in this case the torrential rains was making the neighborhood seem fairly gloomy. A needed a poncho/umbrella so the three of us ducked into a CVS. While A was debating what she wanted, I overheard a pretty awesome conversation.

Touristy old white couple with bags of food:
Excuse me [to a white lady], do you know this area well? We were wondering if that Safeway next door would sell wine. Or of a wine store nearby?"

White lady:
I think the Safeway might have a few bottle of wines, but I would not say it is a good selection. This neighborhood is under construction so there aren't any wine stores nearby. Your best bet is to go to the Harris Teeter[yuppie store of MD, DC, and VA] by Capitol Hill.

I don't know if the couple understood what "under construction" meant, but I thought that was an incredible diplomatic way to put it. I was feeling so superior that I got the code.

I woke up this morning and it was 68 degrees. I could not believe it. So I traded in my car for the bike to go to work. I should point out that my route to work does include some of the roughest neighborhoods in the country. And as I was pedalling through, I noticed a number of boarded up houses and signs that read "house under construction." Guess it really is more of an accurate term than a politically correct one. Guess who is the rube now?

When your opinions make you a bitch....

2009-08-17T16:01:00.003-04:00

Topic: Michael Vick backlash.
Popular opinion: He is a scumbag. He should not be allowed back into the NFL.
My opinion: People are irrational. Why are people all up in arms about this guy? I would be okay with people being upset because he was involved in gambling, professional athletes can't cross that line. My issue is that everyone is angry because he was cruel and killed a bunch of dogs. Admittedly, this is the behavior of many serial killers, but as long as he is not killing a bunch of people I'll let it pass. These same people have no issue with meat, leather, or my area of expertise, animal research. Actually, these people don't even have an issue with Donte Stallworth or Pacman Jones. Why have we drawn the line at Vick? Is that going to be the new criteria for criminality, how much cuteness is harmed? Ridiculous.
Tangent: I am also maybe the only person in the state of California that voted to allow horse meat to be sold legally.

Topic: When is the right time to have babies?
Popular opinion: When a woman/man has found that perfect someone and both are well established financially and in his/her career.
My opinion: As close to their 20s as possible. When did we blind ourselves to basic biology? It is true women can have children into their 40s, but that normally occurs when it is not their first child. But having a first child, in your 40s will be statistically be difficult. (I'm talking statistics of a large population here, not anecdotes.) Women's fertility rapidly declines in their mid 30s unless there has been prior pregnancies. Luckily, with modern medicine there are IVF treatments to overcome that, but it can be a heartbreaking process. It infuriates me that we don't talk about these things in our society, because young women should be informed about the decisions they are making. In many east Asian countries if I repeated what I said here it would be fine, but among the overly educated American elite it is offensive. Really? The worst part is that they try to argue about it. These are facts. And lastly, children can survive a wide array of socioeconomic circumstances delaying the event does not make your child smarter, happier, more beautiful, or any less yours.
Tangent: Watch the movie Idiocracy.

Topic: Hypothetical sports match-ups
Popular opinion: Athletes of the past would be able to compete today.
My opinion: Don't be ridiculous. Athletes are far superior today than they were 30 years ago. That's just the way it goes. 30 years from now they will be better than the athletes today. I believe these match-ups are a complete waste of time.
Tangent: I really wish they showed less ESPN at bars, otherwise this topic would have never entered my radar.

One more strange work thing

2009-08-14T14:16:00.002-04:00

For the past week, the boss of my boss has had the same urination schedule as me. Which I find strange because I do not have a set schedule. It would not bother me so much, except he always says "hi" to me as we both enter in our respective gender appropiate bathrooms. Today, he even started a conversation. I may have to start using the bathroom on the 5th floor if this continues.

Walk like an egyptian

2009-08-12T16:53:00.002-04:00

Around 4:30pm, the office is filled with the sound of cell phones. I don't think there is a scientific correlation with elaborate ringtones and foreign scientists, but I feel like there is one there. The postdoc with a desk close to mine has "Walk like an Egyptian." Every 5 pm, I find myself humming this song in its entirety. Sometimes if I am in the tissue culture hood, I will go through the whole catalog of Bangles songs. Calgon take me away!

Grumble Grumble

2009-07-31T10:24:00.006-04:00

It's been really hot and humid out lately. People are sweaty, smelly, and generally cranky as a result. Especially on the subway. Behavior that I can typically overlook really gets under my skin when the weather is this steamy. For example, people that block everyone else from holding on to the vertical poles in the subway cars really tick me off. Some of us can't reach the overhead bars without practically dislocating a shoulder. That pole is not just for you, buddy, it's for as many people that can grab on to it. A variation on this is when I am already holding on to said pole and someone gets in the car and proceeds to wrap themselves around the pole, crushing my hand. To the lady on the D train this morning, I would have appreciated you not enveloping my hand with your sweaty boob when there was plenty of space for you to position you boob elsewhere. And don't give me dirty looks when I try to reposition my hand. If I wanted to go to second base with you, I would have done a better job of it. Thanks.

Go see this

2009-07-28T09:37:00.005-04:00

The BF and I went to see "In the Loop" last night. It is a fast-paced British political satire set during the Tony Blair administration that had me alternately cringing from the awkwardness of some of the interactions between the main characters (this is intentional -- the same sort of cringing as when I watch The Office) and laughing out loud at the stinging dialogue.

Here is salon.com's review. I really hope this movie does well. I'm not sure if American audiences will get it, mostly because some people won't be able to understand what is being said. There are some heavy Scottish accents, and the dialog really is quite fast. I was ok with it, but I think it's because I lived in London for a while. It may need subtitles (a la Trainspotting) for it to really take off. Oh, and if you don't like profanity, then this movie is not for you. You've been warned...

An Evil Twins' guide to eating out alone

2009-07-15T16:14:00.002-04:00

I find myself eating out alone often. I am a bachelorette and this is my way of life. If you watch a movie from the 30s and 40s you will often see a single man in the background eating his dinner. So why do we see less of this now? Is it a lost art? Is there a stigma attached to eating alone? Or is it that people are just intimidated? Here are some simple tips to get you through it.

1) Do not bring reading material, your computer, or an iPod. If you want to do another activity order take out and eat at home. Part of the experience of eating in a restaurant is enjoying the ambience. However, if there is a sporting event on the television, that is acceptable to watch.

2) You do not have to sit at the bar. If you want a table, then ask for a table. I like to mix it up. When I am feeling social, I'll sit at the bar. It is an easier environment to talk to people. But sometimes I just want to sit down and have a little bit of peace, then I take a table. Please tip your server at least 20 percent if you take a table in a busy restaurant, it is fair.

3) Do not harrass the staff. If you are sitting at the bar, do not make the bartender talk to you. They are there to work, and you could be distracting them. If things slow down and then they come to you, chat away.

4) Do not rush through your meal. There is no need to scarf down your food just because you are not talking to someone though your dinner. There is no need to give yourself indigestion. No matter what you do, you will still be finished in half the time as with friends.

5) Be confident. You can always spot a newby. They normally do not pay attention to rules 1-4 and are constantly checking out the room to see if anyone sees they are there alone. Take a deep breath. You would not act so crazy if you were eating alone in your house, would you?

6) Just try it, even if you have a significant other, with whom you cannot bear to be away for a millisecond. It is more pleasant that you might think.

7) The best times to go out by yourself is on the weekdays or the restaurant's not uber busy day. I like to go out on Wednesday. It is less busy for most restaurants and it is not the throwaway days of Monday and Tueday. The only reason it is nice to go on a quieter day, is that the staff will be kinder to you on average. If they are in the weeds, the last thing they want is a table of one, because as one person you will order less food, ie tip less. But don't be limited by this rule. If it is Saturday night and you want to go out, go out.

8) Try to explore new restaurants. Newbies often restrict themselves to solitary dining at diners or burger joints. Treat yourself to somewhere nice once in awhile. Sometimes I even order myself a champagne cocktail as an extra indulgence.

Go out and have some fun. Bon apetit!

Time to Eat the Doughnuts

2009-07-09T15:42:00.005-04:00

I must say that I am a little too excited about this. I have only ever been to Tim Horton's three times in my life. The first time was with D and H (during the Maine Lobster Festival -- stuffing myself with three lobsters, fried seafood and fried dough is not enough food for me, I had to have a doughnut and coffee after gorging myself at the festival). The second and third times were on the drive between Boston and NYC, which actually involved a slight detour to get to the Tim Horton's. I can hardly wait for them to be within walking distance of my office. Actually, maybe this isn't such a good thing (for my waistline).

Evil Twin #1 versus Craigslist scammers

2009-06-22T10:50:00.010-04:00

I'll admit, I have fallen for more than one scam. Ones like, "Evil Twin #1, you are the only girl for me," and "No, I am not dating anyone else."

In my search for an new apartment, I have run into a number of scams. Ones even more tricky than those crafty boys I dated.

So for example, I replied for an ad for an apartment at the Lighthouse. The response asked me to come to a showing of the apartment ready with a credit report in hand. Seems normal. Even ET#2 thought it was legit. The scam was that the website he recommends for the credit report is not legit.
Click to read the email

Some are a little more obvious. I mean any email from Africa has a twinge of suspicion. (Apologies to my scientific collaborators in South Africa. So when you get a grammatically erred email response it raises all sort of red flags:
Click to read the email

But quite frankly, I think some of the scams were quite sophisticated like this one. The woman says she is using a legitimate website to scam you.
Click to read the email

The worst part is that the rent's they are asking for are not that incredible all within normal range. Anyhoo, on with the hunt.

The first of many...

2009-06-05T21:57:00.002-04:00

Note: Please do not give me crap about my grammar and spelling on this post, as I am rather intoxicated as I type.

My gut kind of hurts from laughing so hard. I probably should be crying, but lets be realistic I am not capable of realizing how ridiculous I am.

Earlier today I convinced the nice quiet girl in the lab next door to mine to go the postdoctoral fellow happy hour. M is adorable, under five foot, Chinese, with a gentle high pitched voice. Anyway considering I did not get to work until 10:30 today, we did not leave the lab until 8pm. When we got to the happy hour, I randomly asked every group there if they were from the NIH. Alas, our group was long gone.

So we drank our Coronas a little disappointed we had missed out on the festivities. "Hey is this your first time here?" said the asian dude in polo shirt.

"Umm yes," I replied

The three of us continued with the same old conversation about work, where we lived, etc.. Mike was a resident starting his periodontist fellowship. I will say that he was adorable like an anime character. He had spiky hair, a baby face, and spoke softly. He kept on leaning into my ear to speak.

When I went to go get another beer from the bar Mike and his buddies disappeared. M told me they went, but I was not really concerned. We decided to enjoy my beer (because M stopped drinking like 4 beers ago since she felt dizzy) outside despite the dreary weather. As we were chatting, Mike reappeared.

"Hey, ET#1, you're back! I just wanted to tell you two that we are eating dinner 4 blocks away. When you are done here you should come join us."

"Oh thanks, " I replied.

"I know this is a strange question, but did you know any people that graduated from Stuyvesant? I know some of them went to Columbia." He said.

"Of course I do, " I said.

"What year did you graduate," he asked.

"1998" I replied. This is the moment I saw fear in his eyes.

"Wait did you go to Stuyvesant?" He asked.

"No," I said, "I went to high school in Massachusetts."

"You graduated college in 1998?" his voice was an octave higher.

"Um yes and you" I asked

" I graduated from Styuvesant in 2001." he sort of choked. I saw him taking a few steps back. "Well I need to get back to my friends." he said.

"Nice meeting you," I said. And off he went.

Poor thing. It must have taken a lot of balls to come back and invite us out to dinner, only to find out how ancient we are. I hope this does not scar him for life. As for me, I cannot stop laughing. I have never seen anyone run away so quickly after bad news.

The Evil Twins Take Maryland - Part 2

2009-06-01T15:37:00.009-04:00

A Q&A between ET#1 and ET#2:

ET#1: You seemed to be fascinated by the architecture of some of the restored buildings in Baltimore. Did anything in particular stick out?

ET#2: I didn't realize how much of Baltimore's housing stock is comprised of 2 and 3 story rowhouses. So many of them are intact -- I hardly get to see so many large blocks like that in New York. Your neighborhood didn't have any buildings over 4 stories tall. It's nice to see the sky. Although, by mid-day, it would have been nice to have some more shade. It was so hot!

I was pleasantly surprised by the city's historic districts -- Fell's Point, the area surrounding the Walters Art Gallery, and the area near Canton Square are all lovely. What a contrast with the... not so nice parts of Baltimore.

ET#1: Scarier: ghetto in NYC, ghetto in Baltimore? Justify.

ET#2: Baltimore, by far, mostly because there is so little foot traffic. And there were far more burned out, boarded up buildings in Baltimore than in the areas of NYC that I've seen. Safety in numbers, as they say. Also, what's with all of the plastic bags blowing across the streets like tumbleweed? It's creepy.

ET#1: You had fried chicken twice in the weekend. Which was better: at Lexington market served with white bread or in Canton with country gravy? Who made better crabcakes: Woodberry Kitchen or the Lion's club?

ET#2: Hmmm... it's hard to choose. I have to break this down into two categories: value and tastiness. Lexington Market takes both categories -- 3 hot and spicy wings for $3! And there was live music! The Chicken Fried Chicken was sooooooo good, so good that I didn't need to eat anything 24 hours... I think they must put crack in their country gravy.

Woodberry Kitchen was in such a cool space (a converted mill) and their food was excellent, but the Lion's club had the Crustacean Station and Miss Crustacean! It's hard to compete with that.

ET#1: Did the BF enjoy any of his Maryland treats?

ET#2: He enjoyed the cookies that I bought at Lexington Market very much. Unfortunately, he didn't get to try the Crab flavored Utz chips. I ate those for dinner on Tuesday. You snooze you lose.

ET#1: Was the 160 mile drive to Crisfield worth the softshell crab sandwiches?

ET#2: For the softshell crab sandwiches only? Not really, but taken together with Smith Island, Tastee Post Office and world's largest sea captain, definitely! Also that old lady that helped dock the boat was pretty bad ass. I am pretty sure that I would have fallen off the boat.

ET#1: Will Miss Crisfield make it all the way to the Miss Maryland contest?

ET#2: Correction -- you mean Miss Crustacean. She is cute, but I saw her mother. She should work it while she can.

ET#1: How scared were you that you would have to spend the night on Smith Island? Can you estimate how many bug bites we would have sustained?

ET#2: I wasn't really that scared. I figured that we could buy bug spray at the little general store by the dock. After dousing ourselves in DEET, I estimate that you would have 15 mosquito bites, and I would have about 35. There was NO WAY we were missing the ferry back to Crisfield.

ET#1: Contained more sugar: Smith Island cake, orange creme doughnut, Pitango gelato?

ET#2: No brainer -- Smith Island Cake.

ET#1: Estimate the number of showers you took. How many did you want to take?

ET#2: I think I took 5 showers over the course of 2.5 days. It was about right.

ET#1: Of all the many activities, what was the most story worthy? Why?

ET#2: During our drive to Crisfield, I was fascinated by the lack of stand alone post offices. Combination Tastee Freeze/Post Office/Tastee Chicken and combination Post Office authorized Precious Moments vendor. I've never seen that before. Also, I won $1 from that scratch ticket I bought in Fruitland!

ET#1: Is Natty Boh still your favorite beer?

ET#2: If I don't want to get drunk off of 1/2 a beer. Yes. I also really like the mascot. He's cute.

Addendum: I liked Baltimore a lot more than I thought I would. The last time I was there was about 20 years ago and all I remember is how pissed my mom was that our minivan had been broken into while parked in the hotel parking lot. Also, I have started watching The Wire. Thanks, ET#1for pointing out the project where they filmed it while driving me to the train station. It's nice to recognize places on tv shows.

The Evil Twins take Maryland part 1

2009-05-26T15:04:00.004-04:00

In retrospect, I should have taken more pictures. Here are some highlights for our adventure on Sunday.

Sign of our weekend plans.

Evil Twin #2 wins the lotto in Fruitland, a town with a Walmart and no fruit.

A post office and so much more.

The only motel/hotel on Smith Island, otherwise known as the greatest incentive to get to the ferry on time.

A unique Natty Boh.

Car trouble

2009-05-18T17:22:00.003-04:00

Ack! That is the only word that can come out of my mouth .

Here is the story. When I moved to Baltimore, my parents came along to help. When they saw where I was working and an illicit drug transaction right in front of the complex, they marched me into a dealership and told me to pick out a car. They would not have their baby walking a mile through gang territory, or by the three nudie bars that are right next to the hospital. My mom wrote out a check for a down payment on the car and told me that the rest I could handle because it would improve my credit score. "Great!" I thought. Then my mother said these fateful words, "Evil Twin #1, we will add you onto our insurance, we know what we are doing."

The conversation between my mother and her insurance agent, F, a kindly overweight lady my parents have for over 30 years and who has been to our house for dinner with both of her husbands, will never be known. I imagine it started off with the two women comparing notes on their grandkids and ending with my mother telling her I was planning on moving back to California some day. In the end, F insured the car in the state of California.

Back in Maryland, I dutifully changed over my license and put on my Maryland plates. I sent my mother a check for the insurance. All was good in the world until I received a letter from the Maryland Motor Vehicle Administration (MVA). Summed up: you are not insured, stop driving your car, and pay a hefty fine. "What!" I thought. I immediately called F and she told me my mother told her that I was moving back to California and just assumed the car was registered in California. My mother of course has a different account of the situation.

But this was not the frustrating part of all of this situation. My solution was just to find an agent in Maryland, give my info, start getting insurance, and pay the fine. My solution took 20 minutes. My mother had another idea. She called the MVA, she called F, and for all I know she called the Pope. She was going to fix things. Instead, she left chaos in her wake. I had three insurance agents call me saying that they would handle things for me. F called me to see what was going on. Then my mother called me. And after her longwinded explanation of things, I said, "Mom, this was my fault. I am 33 years old and I should take responsibility for myself. If I had from the beginning, none of this would have happened. Please stop calling or doing whatever. You are only making things worse. I've got it under control."

The other side of the phone got silent. Then I heard it. I made my mother cry. Her words came tumbling out in her quivering voice: she was sorry and she did not mean to make my life harder. It was terrible. When our conversation ended, my sister called and I recalled the events. The only way I could express my mix of irritation, guilt, and more guilt was "Ack!"

Word of the Day

2009-05-12T12:43:00.004-04:00

BF and I went to see the documentary on Mike Tyson last night. I didn't know that he was such a chatterbox! My favorite word from the movie (which he used at least 3 separate times)?

"skullduggery" - noun. verbal misrepresentation intended to take advantage of you in some way

If you have a chance, you should go see it. Or, at a minimum, add it to your netflix queue.

Insecure shminsecure

2009-05-06T17:46:00.002-04:00

“You know you are a lot hotter now than the last time we hung out,” said the random drunk frat boy, who went to law school with my new friend, S.

“Ummmm thanks?” I replied. What I really wanted to say was “What? Is that supposed to be a compliment? Was I such an uggo when we first met? Are you really a lawyer and end your sentences with a preposition?”

Sigh. I was a little disappointed with myself, for taking that comment so seriously. I am sure the boy was black out drunk and had no idea what he was saying. Unfortunately, I am 33 years old but still riddled with the insecurities. I spent about an hour analyzing what he said. “Okay so now that I am hotter, does that mean he thinks I am a hottie or just not disgusting. Is there threshold? What was I wearing the first time I met him?”

Wasn’t I supposed to have gained some wisdom over the years? Isn’t there supposed to be some personal growth? Wasn’t this incident exactly like the E incident?

E was a law school friend of ET#2. Back when ET#2 lived in Boston, I used to see E from time to time in group settings. Now I should preface this story by saying, E is probably a very nice person, but I have never given her a chance. She is slightly enamored with ET#2. And most importantly for this story, she is about 50-70 pounds overweight. (ET#2 and I tried to come to a consensus but both of us are not good with weight estimations. We do agree she is on the clearly heavy side.)

One night, we were in ET#2’s apartment. Most of the night was completely unremarkable. I think I was there because I was playing scrabble with ET#2’s roommate. ET#2 and her law school friends came in from some event (I think). We were all sitting in the living room having a pleasant conversation. C, another female law student, said something. And while I can’t remember what C said, the response E gave is forever emblazed in my mind. She turned to me and said “ET#1, us big girls need to stick together.”

That one sentence “us big girls need to stick together” was something I obsessed about for years. That one sentence is the reason I still don’t like E. That one sentence was bandied about for years by ET#2’s ex-roommate, who thought it would be hilarious to constantly tease me.

As a matter of fact, when I g-chatted with ET#2 for an accurate estimation of how overweight E was, she knew exactly why I wanted to know. Yes, “us big girls need to stick together,” had taken a life of its own.

So will my impression of the frat boy be forever marred. Yes, it will. If history has taught me anything, it is that I am incredibly petty and can carry a grudge for a very long time.

Pusser's is not a dirty word

2009-04-27T18:06:00.002-04:00

I'll admit that I am stuck at the mental age of 14. For instance, when my friend C, who was flying to Baltimore to attend our friend's shower, said, "Hey let's kidnap S after the shower, and have umbrella drinks at Pusser's," I could not help but giggle.

"What? I didn't think I heard you right," I replied.

"Pusser's, we'd have to head South to Annapolis after the shower," she said between my now full on guffaws.

Okay clearly this conversation degraded into more laughter and raunchy jokes with C, who by the way for full disclosure sakes I should tell the audience is a Unitarian minister.

The shower was Saturday. I begrudgingly wore a skirt, and an appropriate top. C was already there when I arrived. She was 6 months pregnant and showing it. To be fair, like most showers I now attend, most of the party members are married pregnant with like one child at home.

At the party there was salad and tea sandwiches. We all brought pictures to add to her scrap book with small notes with wise marital advice. "Don't go to bed angry." "You do not have to win every argument, just the important ones." "Something Something squiggle line squiggle line (which I think was in Tamal)" I added a picture of her dancing in my dorm room 12 years ago. My advice: Don't ever let your house get this messy.

Then there was the ceremonial opening of the shower presents. Because the shower was with her very conservative Indian in-laws, we were instructed to bring no naughty things. But that means very little to a 14 year-old-at-heart:

Breakfast tray - One aunt says, "This is a huge marital aid."
Massage oil and edible soap - One aunt says. "Why would someone eat soap?"
Smart stick - no comment needed to make this one funny.

While I was sputtering and trying to hold in my giggling fit, I could not help but notice the 16 year-old girl in her grown up sari, acting perfectly angelic.

The shower ended with cup cakes, end everyone cooing at a baby who was brought in by his father who was patiently waiting outside for the shower to end. I saw the baby and took in a sharp breath. Besides the one baby I saw that had a huge hemangioma on his nose, this was the ugliest thing I had ever seen. He has a monobrow and looked like a 40 year old man's head stuck on a baby's body. He had hair all over his face, and huge bald spot.

When we got in the car, I said to C, "Seriously, that was one ugly ass baby." In which she replied, "He kind of is." And that was the end of that.

We drove the 45 minutes to Annapolis with the music blaring. I kind of wished we had slurpees but considering I had just eaten 3 cupcakes I thought the extra sugar might put me in a diabetic coma.

Pusser's is, in fact, the name of a British rum company and not just a funny sounding name. It used to be what sailors drank and were rationed in ye olde times. Also, it is located right on the water with a spactacular view of the harbor. I bought myself a Pusser Pain Killer and C a virgin Cuba Libre. I convinced to guys to give us their table. C was pregnant after all.

We chatted and soon S and 2 of her friends arrived. They were impressed by our ability to score a table. C and I let them praise us. We then proceeded to order ever item on the apetizer menu along with umbrella drinks. After two drinks, everyone but me switched to water. One girl asked me how I did it. I replied, "I stayed single. It makes it easier and necessary to deal with dating boys when you are half in the bag all the time."

P, one of S's friends, said, "Your sister gave this to me. She said it was for you." She handed S a book. In gold lettering, the cover read, "The Pop-up book of Sex." S opened it to a page with a naked woman stradling a naked man in an office chair. She pulled one of the tabs, and the woman fell back as the man held her back. "Oh my. It's interactive." She blushed then giggled.

Soon all five of us were flipping through the book laughing hysterically. Good to know I am not the only one with a dirty minded inner 14 year-old.

Happy Birthday, Evil Twin #2

2009-04-21T12:15:00.000-04:00

Celebrity

2009-04-20T12:13:00.004-04:00

I was driving 40 miles an hour on the Pulaski Highway heading east towards the lab. My hands were gittery from all the excitement or from the glass of wine I drank 4 hours earlier. I couldn't tell. I called my sister. My brother-in-law answered the phone "Whazzup?" he said. "S, you'll never believe who I just met today? Gwen Ifil!"I screamed into the phone. "Who is that? Is she famous?" he asked.

Friday afternoon was 65 degrees with a slight breeze and no clouds in the sky. I wanted to get a little Vitamin D ans some fresh air. I had been cooped up in the lab all morning, setting up real-time PCR that was doomed for failure. I knew this and frantically finished it anyway. It was not until 1:45 until I was able to get lunch. Okay for most, but for some reason I get cranky when unfed. This lunch would have to be large and substantial. I opted for a gyro at Samos, which is 0.7 miles away.

During my walk, I dialed A. I wanted to tell someone about my fabulous night. "Okay so I had to pay like 40 bucks to go to this library fundraiser. By the way did you know that Baltimore has the olders public library system in America? Anyway this event was like 90 percent women."

"Of course it is. It is a library event," A said.

"Oh it was not just a library event it was a library fundraiser plus wine tasting. I think that effectively meant no men allowed. So there were a bunch of bankers and doctor's wives at this event. You know the fabulous kinds with pearls and handbags. I went because my new friend volunteers to raise funds for the library while she searches for a paying gig. I digress. I go to this event in a pair of wide leg jeans and a sweater, so I might be a tad underdressed. The main speaker for this event is Sharon Ifill, who is a prof of South African law at U. Maryland. So apartheid, constitution, equality and whatever. After the talk, I was standing with my friend and Gwen Ifill comes up to me and says, 'I love your shoes, I noticed them a while back and just wanted to tell you how fabulous they are.'"

"O my God, that is even better. A famous person complementing your shoes," A replied.

"Well I was like yeah I really like Washington Week. I was such an ass. Anyway, I was so super excited but my brother-in-law was like who is that?"

"Your brother-in-law and sister are from LA. I'm sure they saw real celebrities all the time," A said.

"Oh like Linsey Lohan? But I rather meet Gwen Ifill anyday."

"Celebrity is relative," said A. "Gwen is big to those of us who watch PBS because we still have rabbit years on our television.

By this time, I had already reached the restaurant and said good bye to A. While waiting for my sandwich, I ran into my boss's boss. He and I made awkward small talk as we waited for our lunches. Then we were interupted by a blur of grey permed hair.

"Hallo, Hallo remember me?" said an older lady frantically waving her hands.

"Oh, Hi," I said after checking around me to make sure she was talking to me.

"From the train," she said. Ah yes, I sat next to her on a train to DC.

"Well, it was nice to see you again," I said.

As the crazy old lady was leaving I overheard her conversation with her husband "Who was that girl?" he asked. "Remember the night of the Lincoln Center event. She is the one I have been telling you about," she replied.

My boss's boss gave me a strange look. "Guess your famous," he said.

Two for One

2009-04-15T17:09:00.005-04:00

As you know, I am horrible about posting in a timely fashion. To make up for that, this post is two posts in one -- a movie review and one you can add to the list of random (and sometime scary) things that happen in New York.

Story Number 1:

BF and I had just finished watching The Mysteries of Pittsburgh (btw, read the book and don't bother with the movie) and grabbing dinner at one of the restaurants in the NY Times Building. It was miserable out and we made our way to the subway entrance just outside of the NYT building. I was telling BF how disappointed I was in the movie's lame attempt at depicting Pittsburgh (my hometown) in 1983. Why was Siena Miller's hair being held back with a somewhat tasteful jaw clip (which did not exist in 1983) instead of the more historically accurate banana clip? Why was everyone dressed as though they had just stepped off the L-Train? The only attempt that the movie made to capture 1983 was to put the old yellow license plates on the movie's cars. As an aside, I was back in Pittsburgh for Easter and it's not hard to find cars circa 1983. Pittsburgh is pretty much stuck in the late 1980's/early 1990's as it is. I'm sure the costume designer could have gone to a few thrift stores and found tons of clothes from the era instead of dressing everyone in stuff you can find in Urban Outfitters/American Eagle. BF didn't even realize the movie was set in 1983. I definitely preferred the book to the movie. My suggestion, read the book, don't waste your time or money on the movie. The one exception was Peter Sarsgaard (but I think that's because I generally like him and not necessarily because of his performance). Siena Miller and her weird accent gets a big thumbs down. For a much better portrayal of Pittsburgh in the 1980's, go watch Adventureland.

Story Number 2:

We were walking north in the subway corridor towards the turnstiles for the A Train, discussing whether or not Siena Miller is too skinny, when a random very large African American dude in his late 20's or early 30's makes a beeline for BF and me. This guy is walking with a purpose, hands in the pockets of his hooded sweatshirt which is pulled up over his head, and is muttering to himself. We start veering to the side to stay out of his way, but then he comes straight at us, calls BF a "pus*y a**" (or something along those lines -- he was mumbling) and kicks BF in the shins and continues walking down the corridor, still muttering to himself.

There were lots of other people in the passageway and I'm not sure why he focused in on us. It was pretty scary, especially since we couldn't see he his hands. I was worried that he had a knife and would stab BF. I was frantically looking around for a station agent or some cops, but none were around. The other people in the corridor gave us concerned, sympathetic looks (thanks for nothing, people). I'm just glad that BF was ok. Definitely shaken up, and sporting a bruise on his left shin, but still in one piece. Whew.

Mail time

2009-04-08T15:39:00.003-04:00

Amongst the many TV shows that Evil Twin#2 and I enjoyed, one is Blue's Clues (with Steve not the creepy cousin Joe).

So what does Mailbox have for us today?

ET#1 sent ET#2 an article from Science magazine about the neurobiology behind experiencing Schadenfreude.

ET#2 sent ET#1 a clipping from a West Elm catalog with a quotation from Mike, the moped rider, who thinks "there’s something sexy about living low to the ground."

When the cherry blossom blooms

2009-04-06T11:03:00.002-04:00

After a two months of bitching and moaning about Baltimore, I've realized I don't mind it so much any more. I still don't have any friends here, but that does seem to bother me. I think the transition has been okay, because so much of Baltimore is like Boston.

Running along the Inner Harbor: running along the Charles.
Cherry Blossom run: Run to Remember.
Safeway 10 minute walk away: Stop & Shop 10 minute walk away.
Polish Deli at Broadway Market: Russian grocery store on Beacon.
H-mart food court: Super 88 food court.
White frat boys: white frat boys.
Sunning on the back deck: sunning on my porch.
Nieman Marcus Last Call: Filene's Basement (Downtown).
Gossipy old Irish lady neighbor: gossipy old jewish lady neighbor.
Excessive drinking of Harpoon IPA: excessive drinking of Yuengling.
Erratic drivers along Eastern Ave: erratic drivers on Beacon.
Crazy Orioles fans: crazy Red Sox fans.

The list could go on, but since I have legitamate work to do today I will leave it at that.

Wise Beyond My Years

2009-04-03T15:29:00.000-04:00

One of my clients has been indirectly screwed by the whole Madoff thing and I actually said "We're in quite a pickle..." to my boss today. When did I turn into a little old lady??

Happy Birthday ET#1

2009-04-02T10:57:00.005-04:00

Today is Evil Twin #1's Birthday! Back in college, we (ET#1, myself, Teacup Girl and Hula Girl) used to force the birthday girl to wear a Happy Birthday tiara for the day. It was incredibly embarassing. Since we can't be in Baltimore to make ET#1 sport a sparkly and frilly tiara, I'm posting it here instead. Happy Birthday, ET#1!!!!

D visits my 'hood

2009-03-30T17:21:00.007-04:00

My leg will not stop fidgeting. Maybe it is the sugar from the third peanut butter cookie I ate, or maybe I am just anxious. D called me 2 hours ago to remind me to pick him up from the airport. I laughed on the phone. The date had been circled on my calendar for weeks.

As the last speaker ends, I bolt out the door. I do not even wait for the clapping to subside. I could not understand a word he said anyway. I look at the tray of cookies and walk away. I get in my silver Nissan Versa. It was sunny in the morning and now it appears the clouds have moved in. Not to worry. The airport is only a 10 minute drive.

I find a parking spot and wait for D to come through the hallway. Unfortunately, the AirTran terminal is set up so I am staring into the entrance of a Men's restroom. I, unconsciously, meter the time it takes some men. I debate whether the man in the gray windbreaker has a prostate problem or had other reasons to linger. I see a man with his Italian leather hold-all, dark jeans, a military jacket over an orange sweater. It is unmistakably D.

D is the Felix to my Oscar, the AJ to my Rick, the Will to my Grace. After being surrounded in Natty Boh drinking dudes, D is a refreshing bit of Boston snobbery. He has tickets to the Boston ballet, and to the NY Met opera and flew down to Baltimore to see me.

We drive straight to his hotel so we can get all of this check-in nonsense out of the way. Now, for those who know me, know driving is not my strongest ability. As a matter of fact, all of those negative stereotypes of Asian women drivers may have stemmed from me and my family. I give my new iPhone to D and ask him to navigate us to the hotel. Not realizing it would make a difference, he does not type in South as part of the address. I am blindly following directions, only to realize that we are at the JHU medical center. And as if it could be distinguished, we are in the scary part. There are teenagers at one corner and older men drinking out of paper bags on a stoop of a building that is boarded up. Welcome to B'more, D.

Once we get back to the white part of town, D still feels uneasy. He wants to know why every boy he sees is wearing a striped or checked button down shirt that is untucked over a white tee and jeans. Oh and shoes, they all wore ugly shoes. I did not have an answer for him, mainly because I never noticed it before.

Everything is more upbeat once we get dinner. We go to a brew pub and everything comes with bacon. mmmmm bacon. Brunch comes with bacon. Dinner again more swine. D comments he is going to have to take double doses of his cholesterol meds.

Between hours of gorging ourselves, we walk around the town. We go to Federal Hill, walk around the harbor, and we even get to see Ft. McHenry. At Ft. McHenry, we walk the barracks and through the barricades. We see reenacters practicing marching with their bayonets. D like the epaulets on the Colonel's jacket. They are a little gaudy for my taste. I sing the Star Spangled Banner under a flag in the fort. I find myself amusing.

The weekend whizzes by, and by Sunday afternoon he is off to Boston. His departing words, "Make sure if you date one of these Baltimore boys he has good shoes. Or at least buy him some."

I need a vacation

2009-03-26T17:47:00.013-04:00

I am horrible at posting things in a timely fashion. The BF and I went on a lovely extended weekend trip to Paris over President's Day weekend. This is Part One of the post, as some interesting things happened before we even got to our destination.

The younger sister of one of my good college friends was staying with me. This is relevant because I had to figure out how to get my keys from her since she would be staying at my place and leaving before BF and I returned from Paris. I had forgotten that my front door should not be set to lock automatically when you shut it -- the reason being that if you are inside the apartment, then you get LOCKED INSIDE and CANNOT GET OUT.

BF and I were heading to the airport straight from work. I only realized that we were locked in before we were about to leave for work. I tried the turning the knob, but the door was stuck. I tried turning and pulling on the knob several more times, I tried using a credit card, then a knife to pry the lock open. Nothing was working. BF was about to try "brute force" but I was afraid that my doorknob would fall off completely. Then I had a MacGuyver moment. Going out the fire escape, re-entering my building and opening the door from the outside was my only option.

I took off my suit jacket and climbed out my kitchen window onto my fire escape. My co-op board recently hit us with a major assessment to "replace the roof and upgrade the fire escapes". I used to resent having to pay an extra $200/month this year, but now I have first-hand knowledge of why they need to upgrade the fire escapes. They are extremely rusty and look like they are about to dislodge from my building's facade. Board, you are more than welcome to my $200/month.

I live on the 3rd floor of my building and had to climb down one level of the fire escape before I got to the ladder which is supposed to slide down so that you don't have to jump 15 feet to hit the ground. It was rusted solid. I tried pushing on it, but then the entire fire escape started creaking and moving so I stopped. BF was encouraging me to jump, but I was afraid that I'd land wrong and that I'd spend the next 4 days hobbling around the streets of Paris.

Instead, I assessed my options. I could try to hang off the fire escape and lessen the jump by about 5 feet. Or, I could try to reach the hopefully open hallway window by shimmying along a ledge. I opted for the latter of the two options. This wasn't that far, maybe 2 or 3 feet, but it felt like a lot more. Thankfully, the window wasn't latched shut. I was able to cling to the window frame with one hand while pushing the window open about 8 or 10 inches with the other. Thanks to lots of yoga and pilates lately, I was able to get one leg up and through the window without losing my balance and cracking my head open on the pavement below. I managed to squeeze through the window (it's an awning window with a hinge on the top that allows the window to swing in towards you if you are opening it) and without ruining my work clothes! I sprinted up the stairs to my apartment, opened the door, was a bit winded, but thrilled that I had figured out a way to get the door open. Then I heard the door slam behind me. And I had to do it all over again. Doh!

On the upside, the second time around took far less time than the first. BF was none to happy when I told him that we were locked in. Again. I told him that he was welcome to climb out the window onto my disintegrating fire escape and squeeze himself through the neighboring window. Then he was quiet.

So, that's the story of the time leading up to my vacation. I'll blog about the actual vacation (with pictures!) separately.

Cat Fight

2009-03-23T12:02:00.001-04:00

I am sad that Project Runway will not be airing this season because of lawsuits between Bravo and Lifetime. Make me a supermodel just isn't cutting it, Bravo. At least past contestants are keeping things interesting.

Kickball and Flipcup

2009-03-23T10:46:00.002-04:00

Phone conversation from last Sunday.
ET#1 - Isn't it nice to know that after 15 years of not doing something, you can still retain that muscle memory?
ET#2 - Ummm yeah okay. I'm not so sure I ever played that game.
ET#1- Oh I don't think we ever played in college. It was definitely a high school thing. You know that and Hour o' power.
ET#2 - Maybe your high school.
ET#1 - I was going to tell them that I played this game while they were in elementary school, but I decided not to.
ET#2 - That was a good idea. I think you should post about this.
ET#1 - About Flipcup or about kickball?
ET#2 - About all of it. And include a team roster with nicknames. I can imagine it all now....

When I moved to Baltimore, it was extremely lonely. I missed my friends and it getting adjusted to driving and trying to meet people was taxing. I sent a million e-mails whining about it, and called everyone I knew for a little sympathy. But then it was enough. As part of a proactive move to meet people, I joined a kickball team.

On a chilly March morning, I donned some long underwear, sweatpants, and a white t-shirt that said "kickball" on it. White was our team color. (how appropriate) When I got to the field at 9:55am, I found the other white shirts: 11 boys and 2 girls. As soon as I got there, I introduced myself, and a fellow in a headband and yellow sunglasses passed me a red plastic cup. "Drink up, and let's be friends," he said.

Here is the line up:
"the Hulk" - He is a bouncer at a bar. He is large and very Aryan.
"Johnny" - He is the "funny"one. 6' and weighing 150, he wears a terry headband and matching wristbands.
"Captain" - She is tiny and speaks only from the side of her mouth like Joey Potter (Dawson's people!). She made me touch her leg "muskles."
"Mouse" - She is a slighter plumper gal, who likes to chew on her hair.
"Irritating Southerner" - He is the stereotype for a frat boy that went to Duke.
"Americorps" - He is from Kansas, and just wanted to meet some friends. He is geeky and okay with it.
"Band of generic white boys" - the rest of them are friends of Johnny's and kind of are hard to distinguish from each other. Case in point, I introduced myself to one of them 3 times.

We lose the first week, and win the second, but no matter what the morning ends the same way: everyone in the kickball league congregate at a local bar. It is enormous with over two hundred people in colored shirts milling about. And inevitable there are several fold up tables set in rows on the side. On each side of a table is 5-6 people in same colored shirts facing off of people in different colored shirts. This is the real competition: this is flip cup.

For those of you have never played, here are the rules. You drink a shot of beer in a plastic cup and then you try to flip that cup upside down. When you have successfully done this, the next person on your team can do so. First, team to finish wins. Now, there are variations to this game. When I was in high school we used to line the cups up and one person had to go down the line by themselves. So I have a little experience in this game.

Being a woman of Asian descent, it was assumed I did not know how to play. Irritating Southerner kept giving me pointers throughout the afternoon. I got mine on in maximum two flips, he took forever.

At some point during the high fiving and taunting, I looked around. I got a little sad, then a little giddy. Maybe it was the beer but I could not stop laughing at the absurdity of it. I'll be back next week though and the game will go on.

In the meantime, quarters anyone?

Inapropriate or not?

2009-03-20T13:24:00.004-04:00

When I was in an university, I used lament that some of the male postdocs would openly look at porn on their laptops. I felt like that was inappropriate. If I could I would have blocked their habit, but alas I could not. However, now I have changed my mind.

I would gladly run into a porn fiend, in exchange for Facebook and Fantasy Sports access. Repeatedly, I get the message seen above.

My argument, besides that free speech 1st amendment crap, is this: I would be a BETTER worker if I had full internet connection, because in my job longer hours correlates into more work product. Unlike television and shows like CSI, real biological assays take several hours. While waiting for these assays to finish I sometime will partake in a little internet frivolity. However, without full internet access, I want to go home and postpone what I have to do another day.

A strange meating

2009-03-16T10:43:00.003-04:00

Sunday is cleaning day. Or better known as pretend to clean and at the very least throw-out-all-the-old-food-from-the-fridge-day. Inevitably, I am left with a dilemma, "Do I throw this plastic container of food out? Or do I dare open it and throw away its contents to use for another day?"

In effort to be environmentally friendly, I decide to wash the containers. My reward, the garbage disposal freaks out and I am left with a sink full of water and tofu stir fry. This combination is possible the most barf inducing site, so I speedily go into action.

I grab my keys and go to the drug store. Walgreens is 7 blocks away from my house: 6 going east and one going north. I decide to drive, the 5 minute walk would be grueling.

In the parking lot, I see a mob of people. They all seem to know each other. I think to myself how strange it is to see a sea of flannel. Did I time warp to 1992? Inside I find Draino and Liquid Plumber. I can't decide so I buy both. I will use the Draino first. It is 40 cents more expensive, and it is called "max gel." I think it must be better.

The lady working the front desk, rings up my items. "Here you go ma'am," she says as she hands me my change and two drain cleaners. I thank her. It drives me a little nuts that everyone in Baltimore always use miss and ma'am, but after a month and a half, it is getting better.

Outside the crowd has thinned out. I can finally see what everyone was gathered around to see. A black and brown van that read "Capitol meats" in white letters surrounds by flames. A man in blue and white trucker hat is sitting on the edge of the van. When he sees me he opens the back door to his van. Gulp. I see steam coming out of it. It is the cold air from a refrigerator that is hitting the wet air.

"Hello, there," he says. "I have some nice porter houses still left. And I'll give you a discount since it is the end of the day."

"Oh no thank you." I reply. "I just came for the Draino."

"I see ma'am. Well, I am here every Sunday and if you have anything special in mind I can put it aside for you next week," he says.

"Ummmm. great. I'll be sure to keep that in mind," I reply. "Have a good day."

"You too ma'am," he says.

Summary: there is a man that sells meat out of a van in the Walgreens parking lot by my house. Baltimore, you are living up to all my stereotypes.

Feelin' a little crabby

2009-03-09T15:05:00.002-04:00

Baltimore, crabs ... get it? Truth be told, even puns are not making me giggle anymore. The transition to a new city has been a little harder than expected. Things like I had to buy a car, and I cannot walk anywhere really irks me.

And this negative attitude seems to have permeated to other aspects of my life. For instance, right now my chinese office mate is smacking some kind of chinese candy. She does this every afternoon, and it drives me crazy. I want to buy her something crunchy or something quiet so I do not have to hear her slurp and smack her lips constantly.

Filling the hours outside of work can be difficult. To amuse myself I like to go to Ikea, which is only 8 miles away. My favorite part of the store is the food stuffs, Anna's ginger cookies and Wasa crackers. But last week, I was just irritated as I was mobbed by a million couples. Normally, I would never begrudge a couple their coupleness, but I was feeling a little bitter that at least if I had a significant other I would have someone to talk to everyday.

Being crabby, can also translate into being bitchy. For instance, I went to an all Ivy mixer in DC. I brought along a friend of a friend who wants to go out more. I have never met her before. We met at the bar. She was friendly, and genuinely nice. We had a pretty good time considering we were the only people at the event under the age of 40. Let me reword that, we were the only people at the event who looked like they were under 40. However, even though I should have been happy to have this night out, I was put off by the friend of a friend's comment. She said, "Oh this was fun. But next time I am going to help you get ready. I am really good with makeovers." Hrrumph. In my mind, I replied "Listen, bitch. I am wearing jeans and a cashmere t because in my line of work that is considered dressed up. I rather that then wear your nasty polyester black pants and your dowdy ass cardigan set." In reality, I said, "Oh that's a thought."

Hopefully, now that the weather is getting better and the real Maryland blue crabs are coming into season, I will be less of a crab. We'll see.

I Lego NY

2009-02-03T09:17:00.004-05:00

For those of you that miss New York City, or just like legos, you should check this out.

Romance Evil Twin style

2009-01-28T00:07:00.000-05:00

It is Friday afternoon, 4:18pm to be exact. I am sitting on my desk chair with my legs propped up on my lab chair. I see a medical student potential walk out of the lab with her black Ann Taylor pant suit. My balding kind temporary boss walks her out. As soon as the lab door closes, he turns to me and says, "So are we drinking?"

"Hells, ya," I reply. "I was waiting for you to finish all of your interviews."

He laughs. "Nah you should have come in and poured yourself a drink. Maybe then she would have gotten the hint the interview was long over."

"Went that well, huh?" I say.

"Eh. I just rather be drinking." he says. "Well ET#1, I guess this is your official last day at Harvard. So which one do you want to start off with?" He points to the row of Scotch and Irish Whiskeys on his desk. Nothing younger than 12 years. I knew I liked him better than my own adviser.

I plunk down on his couch as he plays bartender at his desk. He calls out to the lab and tells them working time is over. One by one students, technicians, and postdocs pour into his office. Most of them are not drinking, but find it amusing to us do it. Amongst the students, there was one of particular note. He was our first Roton of the year. (Tangent: Rotons are first year Ph.D. students who are rotatating in different lab to find a match.)

After about 5 whiskeys, we all walk down the hall for departmental beer hour to get a little food in our stomach. Every Friday afternoon at 5pm the Microbiology department gives out free beer and snack foods to encourage socialization. Socialization... liver failure....tomato....tomato. Anyway, I start drinking some Mike's Hard lemonade, because that is all that is left when you come to beer hour too late. One of the adorable Kewpie-esque Tawainese postdocs asks to have a sip. She likes it and downs the bottle. And so starts the chain of events to a demented romantic story.

"Oh crap are you okay?" I ask. The adorable postdoc whole face is beet red and she can't seem to stand straight. We walk her to our lunch room. Because it is my last day, I emptied out my liquor cabinets and brought all of it to the lab. Mainly, I brought it for one of the students. He is in his fourth year, and I know he will need it to fortify his will. While we watch the adorable postdoc recover, the rest of us keep drinking. Now we move onto gin and tonics. I tell the Roton to get the post doc some crackers from the vending machine. It works and the adorable postdoc has the ability to stand,so we all decide to get dinner.

We sit down at the table, after an intricate musical chairs number. I am sitting next to the Roton. this benefits me greatly, because I mistakenly order a salad because it had the word steak in its title. I proceed to eat all the mashed potatoes off of his plate. He asks that I help him steal the glass he is given. It has a gnome on it. Since I am especially adept at restaurant thefts, I throw it into his bag.

Finally, it is 12pm and it is time for us all to go home. I start walking and chatting, but I realize I should have no one to chat. I tell the Roton, "Isn't your apartment over there?"

"Yeah, but no woman should walk alone. It's no big deal, I'll just walk you home," he says.

Now were I not a moron I should be suspicious because two other female postdocs just left alone. But I thought fair enough. After all, after the last party we had in the lab he walked me home from the South End (approx 3.5 miles) in sub zero weather. As we were walking, put my hand in the crook of his arm. Okay, I think, he is a gentleman. He did this for me last time to keep my hand in the splint from freezing. Oh except this time I had no splint.

He points into shop windows as we walk by them. Isn't that funny, who would ever wear that, why flying pigs? At my stoop, I thank him. He asks if he can use the restroom, so I let him in. When he gets out, I am in the foyer reading my issue of Science. Now for all those who know me, know I love being the first one to a magazine. So I am standing there reading it and he is standing next to me. He leans in and kisses me. First priority is to make sure my magazine does not get crumpled. Then I assess the moment. In a flash it become clear. Him constantly hanging out in my part of the lab, always sitting next to me, him jokingly putting his arm around me, and walking me home under inclement conditions. "Oh I'm sorry, but I thought it was my last chance. I know you said you would never date another scientist, but....," he said.

Really, I said I would date another scientist. Ahhh yes. Many months ago I said that, but who thought people were actually paying attention to what I said. "Put your bag down and take off your coat," I say. He does and goes to the couch. I follow him with Science in tow. He has his arm around me and is playing with my hair as I read my magazine. "Seriously," I say, "why the Medaka fish, who do these people think they are?" He just kisses the top of my head and says he does not know.

Epilogue
I call the Roton on Monday night to see if he want to go out on Tuesday. He does not call back. In fact, he disappears and does not show up to the lab. Sigh. Back to drinking.

A message from V

2009-01-13T19:02:00.004-05:00

My lab spouse of 5 years now lives across the country. I went through a little bit of separation anxiety over it. With whom would I discuss the nuances of the latest crap paper from the Karin lab,and in the same conversation inject my opinion of Golden Globe fashions? I guess she was thinking of me too because she forwarded a comic to me. Hmmm, I can't imagine why though.

My lab

2009-01-09T18:56:00.003-05:00

As much time as I spend in the lab, I realize how little I talk about it. It is a place I feel comfortable to watch television online, nap, and read a copy of the Scientist (think of a People equivalent aimed at researchers). I drink my coffee in the morning, and eat most of my dinners in the break room. For instance, this morning I toasted my Eggo waffles and drank tea for breakfast, and I just heated up some food a postdoc brought for lunch but decided not to eat. Yes, it is my home.

We are sectioned off into little units called labs. It makes us a little defensive of our fellow labmates work. It makes us band together against mutually offenses like administration. It makes us identify ourselves with the name of our Principal Investigator, our boss and he is our mascot.

Our PI carries little to no authority. He is kind of like the bumbling dad in so many romantic comedies. Slightly bumbling with an occasional wise word. I'm sure he has the power to fire me, but if it hasn't happened yet, it will never happen.

As for us lowly peons, we spend our time going to lectures, designing experiments, drinking hot beverages, drinking various forms of cold EtOH, and chatting. Everyone in the lab plays their role dutifully. There is the organizer, the social chair, the annoying braggart, the uber scary nerd, the calm leader, the cheerful postdoc and the confused student. There is an inexplicable bond between you and the other members in the lab. A twilight zone in which they are your family, but you know nothing about them. I wonder if this is what it is like in other workplaces. But I can only imagine other workplaces being like the Office and Dilbert.

Most biological wet labs look the same. Benches that stand higher that your waist littered with tubes and pipettes. Above my bench, I have the same set of chemicals I always like, my buffers and salts on one side, special chemicals on the other. Unlike in the movies, all the rows of bottles and conical tubes are filled with colorless bottles.

While houses have creaks and whistles, the lab has its own set of noises. The whir of 5 refridgerators, the gentle hiss of the vacuum, ocassional beeps of the hood and the bustle of people. People seem to be in constant motion here. Tubes are in one bay, centrifuge is accross the room, the water bath in the center, the freezer at the end, and the laminar flow hood is in another room altogether.

Right now its quiet. I can only hear the machines singing their gentle songs. But soon any minute now, my alarm will ring to remind me to plate my transformations and I can get the F#$@ out of here to see some of the real world again.

Say it ain't so

2009-01-09T12:20:00.004-05:00

Continuing with my fashion rants of late, I read this article and am afraid that this potential trend might actually be picked up and that I will see the young associates at my firm, as well as the tourists that swarm the Times Square/Rockefeller Center area, sporting these. Good God, no. Bike shorts should only be worn by serious cyclists. Period.

Kids These Days

2009-01-05T15:43:00.006-05:00

Excuse me while I vent. I am constantly astonished at how "kids" -- meaning anyone more than 5 years younger than me -- these days are so ill prepared for the workplace. What is up with all of the inappropriate office wear?

While the fashion magazines may be telling young women that it is ok to show some skin at the office, if you expect to be taken seriously by me, then you'd better cover up your cleavage and your derriere and do some good work. This is not The City and you should not be dressing like Whitney Port.

There is a junior associate on my floor that seems to think that our hallways are in fact fashion runways. The other day, she was wearing the following: black platform stilettos, semi-shiny black super tight leggings with zippers at the ankles (fully unzipped), a super short "kilt" that barely covered her behind, and an oversized cowl necked sweater -- so oversized, that it periodically exposed her bra straps. I recognized most of her outfit from various ads I have seen in Vogue. However, just because something is obscenely expensive doesn't mean that it's appropriate office wear.

I am trying to figure out why her unprofessional outfits bother me so much. It's not like what she wears has any bearing on how I am perceived at the workplace. I accept the fact that I am a corporate lawyer, working at a BigLaw type of firm and that means that not every day is a fashion show. It's ok to try to inject your own fashion sense into your outfits, but you've got to remember that this is a conservative environment. Dressing like you're an extra on Gossip Girl or one of those semi pornographic American Apparel ads could give one of the older partners a heart attack. Talk about liability...

3...2...1...

2008-12-31T10:59:00.002-05:00

I for one resolve to at least TRY to post more in 2009. Hopefully, Evil Twin #1 will have more time to post as well. A Happy New Year to everyone!

The prodigal blogger is back

2008-12-31T10:58:00.001-05:00

Right now I am sitting on a train eating cold pineapple and ham pizza, listening to my best of 2008 mix: Kanye, theTingtings, Vampire Weekend, Eagles of Death Metal and others I soon will have to file away under “stuff I listened to when I was young.”

This train ride is a fitting end to my “Rumschpringhe.” The end being an unplanned trip to New York City for a vodka-infused-Scrabble-Wii-playing New Year’s Eve Party.

In my Rumschpringhe, I did like the Amish would do. Drank copious amounts of alcohol in all forms. Danced inappropriately in multiple venues. Slung drinks. Got outed at queer bar only to be reinstated as a hetero the next week. Convinced eighteen year-olds that the F-word was a perfectly valid adjective in describing chemical reactions. Participated in a bar brawl. Made out publicly and not so publicly with a leader of a moped gang (and by the way “moped” is not a typo.) Got in a drunken moped accident. Sliced my finger open with a piece of glass. Joined Facebook.

The real question is how do the Amish get reintroduced into society? How will I ease myself back into life of a job and responsibilities?

Until then I plan on springing an unexpected visit on my friends, drinking myself silly, gorging myself on Jamaican beef patties, and crashing on someone’s couch. As I said a perfect end to my Rumschpringhe.

Civic Duty

2008-11-04T09:32:00.002-05:00

Just a reminder to everyone to get out and vote! And once you do, you can get all sorts of free stuff (Starbucks, Ben & Jerry's and Krispy Kreme to name a few), so not only do you get to cast your ballot, but you can experience a sugar rush/caffeine buzz on Corporate America's dime to boot!

Schadenfreude

2008-10-21T11:27:00.015-04:00

definition: –noun. [German : Schaden, damage (from Middle High German schade, from Old High German scado) + Freude, joy (from Middle High German vreude, from Old High German frewida, from frō, happy).] satisfaction or pleasure felt at someone else's misfortune.

The BF is back from a 2 week trip to Russia. I was invited to go on the trip, but passed. The way that BF communicated his intention on going on the trip (without me) was... less than ideal. Also, he was travelling with 2 women (friends of friends), neither of which I really cared for, with one in particular that I would say that I actually dislike (the "Girl I Don't Care For"). The other is nice enough, but not someone that I would choose to be friends with. Acquaintance, yes. Friend, no. I will refer to her as "Acquaintance".

Admittedly, I can be paranoid about things -- in particular, I was convinced that BF going on a 2 week long trip in a non-english speaking country with 2 single women (one of which always seems to forget ever having met me) was a bad idea; that long hours spent on a train would lead to romance. This is probably a result of too many hours watching Lifetime (television for women) made-for-tv movies. BF is generally a stand-up, very trustworthy guy. I knew that he wouldn't cheat on me, but I was worried that he'd be charmed by the Girl I Don't Care For and then break up with me. I had convinced myself that if in fact that did happen, if things fell apart, then our relationship wasn't as strong as it should be after 4+ years. I am a fatalist in that sense.

Before the trip, BF had expressed some concern that travelling with Acquaintance would be tough -- she is a girly girl and not too keen on trying new things. He thought that the Girl I Don't Care For would be cool to travel with -- she's travelled a lot on her own in the past, always to interesting and exotic places. Plus, during the few times that I have seen BF and the GIDCF together, they always seem to be in themiddle of an extremely engaging conversation. Another item to feed my paranoia. I am relieved to report that there was no international romance between the BF and the Girl I Don't Care For. In fact, she sounds absolutely horrible to travel with. It secretly made me happy that she made their trip less than completely fun.

GIDCF did a good job of raining on everyone's parade. Also, she sounds C-R-A-Z-Y from many of the stories, blaming everyone else for her absent-mindedness and picking fights with Russian police for no good reason. As an example, as they were departing Moscow to head back to NYC (stopping over in Helsinki), BF reminded her that all liquids have to be checked into your luggage since they were transiting from a non-EU country through an EU country. She decided to ignore his advice and when the airport security tried to confiscate the $20 bottle of vodka she had bought in the airport (but before duty free) she started arguing with them and demanded that she be able to go back through security and passport control so that she could check her Marc Jacobs purse onto the plane (BF assured me that it was a purse, not anything approaching a carry-on bag), having wrapped her sweater around the bottle. This seems like the perfect example of the old adage "penny wise but pound foolish". She only backed down after she was surrounded by 5 Russian guards. This was all over a bottle of vodka that I saw at my local liquor store just the other day.

Occasional craziness can be overlooked, but not being willing to compromise on what sites to see, restaurants to go to, or food to order cannot. She also had a habit of berating the locals for losing her things in coat check, when she had never actually checked them into coat check in the first place, having forgetten them in other places. I'd like to think that I am a much better travel companion. BF and I have travelled to 10 different countries together and have never been arrested (or almost arrested). Although BF does routinely get pulled aside by airport security when we travel internationally--born in Tehran seems to be a big red flag--while I go straight through with no problems. After BF told me these stories I asked if he would ever travel with the Girl I Don't Care For again, BF said (not surprisingly), not in the foreseeable future.

Complementary Colors

2008-08-18T17:45:00.002-04:00

{design: David Creighton-Pester & Evan Ferstenfeld }

Note which colors are speaking to each other. I Love it!

Another one bites the dust

2008-07-29T12:16:00.003-04:00

I read this today and it made me sad:

"The Shutter: 17 Year-Old Cafe Mozart: An alarmed reader informed us today that the website is down and the phone is disconnected for Lincoln Center staple Cafe Mozart. A spot check confirms: the space is closed and gutted, and from a sign in the window, it looks like the place was seized by the landlord. Theater-goers, it's time to start looking for a new post-opera snack spot."

Cafe Mozart was a place that ET#1 and I would frequent during college, especially when our families were in town. In fact, we bumped into each other there (with our families) after graduation, completely unplanned. While their food has gone downhill over the years, it was still a great place to grab dessert or a coffee after seeing a movie at the Sony/Loews (now AMC) in Lincoln Square or after seeing something at Lincoln Center. Sniff sniff...

The Secret may not be crap

2008-07-22T01:31:00.000-04:00

My hippie boss, that runs the high school research program at HMS, sometimes really irks me. Mainly, because she constantly hugs me. It is weird. But also because I think she can be inappropriate. For instance, a few weeks ago during high school student orientation, she made a bunch of 16, 17, and 18 year olds watch this dvd called "The Secret." In a nutshell, it is many mini interviews with experts (some being scientists, whom I summarily checked their publication records and was unimpressed) saying that whatever you want you will get if you just have a positive attitude. Apparently, that is the secret to success. I huffed and puffed and somehow managed to not yell "Shut this crap off!" I think the self inflicted nail marks in my thighs helped.

But about two weeks later something strange happened. A has been determined to go sailing this summer and in fact, has been planning sailing lessons. A bevy of activities seemed to thwart these efforts. It was a Sunday, and we were determined that this day we would take the sailing orietation class. We met up at the Charles River boat house an hour before the orientation meeting began. When we asked the dissaffected teenager, "how do we sign up for the class," she replied, "just wait over there, it will start in an hour." To amuse ourselves, A bought us snacks of fruit and smoked gouda flavored popcorn, a gourmet snack food that would only be found in the upper crust Beacon Hill neighborhood. We ate by the river, hoping the recent rash of summer thunderstorms would no strike while we were one the docks. But because we needed good weather, good weather appeared.

We arrived to the meeting place 15 minutes before class was to start. Just as we sat down though, a brunette preppy man in his late twenties approached us. "Do you want to out on the water?"

Confused blank stares from A and me.

"Are you ladies part of the club? Never mind that does not matter, would you like to go sailing today?"

"We are here for the orientation class," A said.

"Oh, this would be better than that. I want to take out a boat, but I can't take it out alone. Would the two of you like to come out with me?" He asked.

We looked at each other. "Of course," we said.

I'll admit to being confused for the first thirty minutes while the two of us helped our new compadre, H, get a boat out of the lagoon and into the Charles. What were we doing? We had randomly accepted a boat ride from some stranger with no hesitation. It was exhilirating. The boat zipped. While the boat leaned due to the pressure on the sails, I dipped my hands into the water. H lamenented on low winds, but to me the experience was exhilirating.

H taught us the ropes, literally taught us which ropes to pull and why. He told us about quartering, tacking, and jibing. And he told us that there once was a Hooters in Boston. Who knew.

For an hour and a half, A and I got a personalized sailing lesson. Perhaps even more than we expected for a Sunday afternoon. But maybe just maybe our positive attitudes for the day, attracted H to us and therefore we got what we wished. Maybe I will give my hippie boss some slack. Probably not, she still hugs me and that part is still odd.

In the weeds

2008-07-16T23:12:00.003-04:00

I have been a bad blogger. This fact is undeniable. Since the loss of a regular routine, I have seemed to have lost the ability to post. Normally, it was my Monday morning routine. Something I would do that would make me look busy while at the same time easing into my week.

The lack of ritual has put my world in a tizzy. I have added the amount of time that work and it is approximately the same as before. The only true difference being that I am bouncing around from place to place. And now I am for lack of a better term "in the weeds."

I had never heard of this term before, but it gets used a lot at the restaurant. I think it might be an east coast thing, not sure. It means that you are super busy and orders are piling up behind you.

All my work woes are compounded with the summer here, and so many fun things happening. Yikes! So much for my summer of boredom.

Anyway I thought everyone deserved an explanation. I am going to get out my machete of time management out and be better about the posting....I promise.

PS
Posts that need to be completed
- Sailing with A.
- How to be a herder/disciplinarian of teenagers.
- What not to do on a date: perspective of a restaurant worker.

Fitness Starts... Now!

2008-07-08T17:01:00.002-04:00

Following in the footsteps of Evil and Steph, Xtian (aka Big Head) and I are also getting on the road to fitness. We have budgeted a little over 2 months to lose 15% of our total body weight. I guess this means no more chocolate cake for breakfast (which is what I have been having for breakfast the past 4 days -- I couldn't let the cake that my grandmother and I baked go to waste...) and time for me start running again.

Unlike Evil and Steph, the only thing on the line for us is a fancy dinner, since Xtian is already writing "Date or Die" posts and unless I want to start cheating on BF, I can't really go on any dates. Just spoke to BF and he wants in on it too. This is good, since I like to blame my weight gain on him and his fantastic cooking.

A pocket gay made my day

2008-06-30T22:28:00.003-04:00

I was working on Saturday night at the restaurant. Tables were full and in the foyer people kept piling up anxious to get inside. Loud chatter drowned out the noise of Hot Chip that was playing on repeat.

I was only working for a few hours, just to help out during the rush between 7-9:30pm. My job was to run food out to the tables. I would cheese it up with a little story behind the dishes, what inspired (the very white woman chef) to come up with these "authentic" flavor combinations, how to eat the food properly, and flirty comments.

There were two of us acting as runners that night, me and a small gay asian boy. He is the definition of fabulous. We spent a bunch of the night gabbing. He taught me the "Soul real" fist bump for Randy Jackson presents America's Best Dance Crew (ABDC for those of you in the know.)

I said something, I cannot remember what it was, but it inspired the question "how old are you?"

"Old," I replied.

"No, seriously, how old?" he asked.

"32"

"No, way. I would have guessed 26, 28 max. Wow. I swear this fits my theory. J NEVER hires ugly people here. Ask Chef, she'll confirm it," he stated.

What is a workaholic?

2008-06-23T22:53:00.002-04:00

Okay so I graduated. My lab left and an my PI is currently in Texas enjoying margaritas and tacos. I am stranded in Boston with nothing to do. It literally took me one week of nothingness before I started climbing the walls. I have no idea why I lost the ability to chill-ax, but I have.

To keep occupied, I have decided to take on some activities. 1) I help coordinate a program that has high school students working in labs. 2) I am a waitress at a hip Asian-food-for-white-people restaurant. 3) I am a lab technician for my friend who need to graduate by December. 4) I am reviewing fellowship grants for my former PI. 5) Making random visits to A's office with some kind of foodstuff. 6) Read journal articles to stay current and to make use of my library privileges before they expire.

I added the time I put in for all of these activities, and realized that it added up to over 50 hours for one week. Yet, I felt like I still had way too much free time on my hands. Did I really work that hard as a grad student? I thought I was a slacker. And what does that mean about my social life that I fill all my hours with these things?

Who knows, but hopefully it will make for an interesting summer.

To Health (and vodka)

2008-06-12T17:35:00.003-04:00

Today is National Russia Day. The kitchn is one of my favorite blogs and Russian Standard is one of my favorite vodkas. I'm going to have to try what look like some pretty tasty recipes in the link above.

Za zdorovie!

Please tell me I am unphotogenic

2008-06-12T17:01:00.003-04:00

Evil Twin #2 often chastises my reluctance to take pictures with myself in them. Maybe I am deluding myself, but I always hope I look better in real life than in pictures.

Proof of point: please observe what someone forwarded to me. She found it on the offical HSPH commencement website.

Dressing up like Harry Potter

2008-06-07T21:11:00.006-04:00

"...I welcome you to the ancient and universal company of scholars and entrust to you the free inquiry of future generations." - President Drew Faust conferring the degrees of Doctorate of Philosophy.

It is hard to take graduation seriously when you are dressed like a color blind Harry Potter. And for you fashion forward readers, you would be appalled to know that my friends and I were upset that our robes were not flashy enough. Most universities have shiny silks to line the hood and 8 corner tams with gold tassels for Ph.D.s. Instead we have the muted crimson lining that matched our robes and *gasp* a four cornered velvet tam. We sat in our seats comparing the stitching of our crow's feet and wondering if our dark blue was really that distinguishable from aqua of Government.

Although I have graduated a couple of times before, this time it seemed to mean a little more. Honestly, had my parents not insisted I would not have even attended the ceremony, but I am glad I did. It occurred to me when President Faust was talking that this would be last time that I would be a student. Ph.D.s are terminal degrees, nowhere to go from here. It is my equivalent to a third husband and I am stuck with this one. To take the analogy preposterously far, my mother even bought me the ridiculous robes for a little over $700 the approximate amount my cousin paid for her wedding dress.

I am sending my robes home. My mom promises me that she will get it dry cleaned and vacuum packed, like my sister's wedding dress. It will be unsealed when my first grad student marches, hopefully, within the next ten years. Or maybe not as my mom hinted that she and my dad might try it on because it is so funny looking, and my sister thought it would make a great Halloween costume.

Pomp and Circumstance

2008-06-05T12:22:00.002-04:00

ET#1 is graduating today!!! She will walk at around 1:00 pm. I had sooo wanted to be there for it, but work got in the way... I will be there in spirit cheering her on. I also have people who promised to take pictures documenting this momentous occasion. Pictures of Doctor ET#1 coming soon...

Some People

2008-05-29T11:37:00.004-04:00

... really get under my skin. I have no idea why. I can't explain it. Actually, I can, sort of. It's about how certain people choose to interact with others.

A bit of background -- I am representing a client in a certain transaction. There is someone in my office who is representing a different client on the opposite side of the transaction. I will refer to that person as "Opposing Counsel". Both of our clients are aware that our firm is on both sides of the deal -- conflict waivers have been signed, etc... This transaction also involves getting approvals from various government agencies which are notoriously nit-picky.

I have been asking Opposing Counsel for comments on a certain document for over 3 months. THREE MONTHS! About 2 months ago I sent the the same draft that I had sent to OC for review to the various government agencies for their review -- knowing that the government moves at a glacial pace. This morning, OC walks into my office and asks me all manner of questions in a very combative tone and demands answers. I'm in the middle of reviewing something else on a different deal, I don't have the document in front of me, and it's been 1 month since I've looked at it. OC says that the document doesn't make any sense that it needs to be re-drafted, OC doesn't understand why certain language is in the document, blah, blah, blah. I feel like I was totally ambushed, and in my own office!

After OC left my office, I found the file which was literally buried under all the other work that has come my way over the past few months, and I read what I had drafted, and what the various government agencies had reviewed, commented on, and approved. I am pretty sure that OC did not actually read the document for content -- skimming it and not bothering to process what was written. It's all there, spelled out in excruciating detail, the whole process identified step-by-step, so that anyone who has no idea what happened behind the scenes knows what's going on.

I hate that OC made me doubt my abilities. Upon further reflection, I realize that this was likely a tactical move -- the barging into my office without any warning. There was no phone call or email to say that OC reviewed the document and that we should discuss the comments. These are things that I would NEVER do to another attorney. Maybe that's why I'm so upset by all this. On top of all this, transactional work is supposed to be about getting people to agree, about getting the deal done. Asking for last-minute changes to a document that has already been reviewed ad nauseum not only by staff level attorneys, but by the head of the legal department of a government agency is uncalled for. I really wish OC wasn't part of my group. OC is killing this deal and it's really starting to get to me.

Notes from Baltimore

2008-05-27T20:36:00.002-04:00

I am on the road. Not really, but that sounded a lot sexier than I am in a hotel room watching the Discovery Channel pretending to shave 15 minutes from my talk.

A new city is always disorienting for me, especially one like Baltimore that has so many invisible barriers that I am not to cross. Even though I was just going down the street, something I would walk in any other city, I was instructed to take a cab. Not because I would get lost but because I might get into an unsavory area.

My cabbie told me that the city has gotten a lot more safe in the past few years. "Look," he said, as he pointed to all the cops on the corner of every street.

My favorite part of Baltimore has been the Yuengling and the gelato. Like always I stumbled into a bar, and was happy to see my favorite beer on tap. Then from the bar I stumbled down the street and went into an organic gelato house. The milk was from local dairies and the fruit from local farms. I had a granny smith apple and gianduja, a gross combination unless the both were exceptional. Good thing they were.

That is it for now. I am sure I will have more to report soon.

Not quite a stimulus

2008-05-21T18:39:00.004-04:00

My mom used to tell me that it was gauche to talk about your money problems. I apparently never heeded those words, mainly because I was probably so impressed she knew the word "gauche."

Two weeks ago I got a welcomed gift from Uncle Sam. 600 dollars directly deposited into my bank account. Isn't just like a relative sneak money in your pocket and whisper in your ear spend it on something crazy?

Actually, I was expecting the money and had dreamed about what I was going to do with it. I had my eye on a pair of black Chie Mihara peep toe pumps on sale for 300 dollars. Or a brief case like Dr. L, an 83 year old professor emeritus, who carries around a beat up leather bag his wife gave him 40 years ago. Maybe I would buy new handle bars for my bike. Oh the possibilities.

But, alas, Harvard managed to suck those dreams away.
Dissertation printing fee: $233.94
Dissertation processing fee: $125
Gardisil vaccination not covered by my health insurance: $154
Grad Student council fee: $20
Misc other crap: ~$50

Not even enough left over for these shoes from Nine West that are Gucci knock offs.

Well, thanks anyway Uncle Sam. I will try to waste my money on American goods next time and thanks for getting me out of a jam this time.

The cookie bandit strikes

2008-05-19T14:13:00.002-04:00

My mouth is dry and I open and close my mouth as if to taste the dryness. My room is very dark. I realize that I am hugging something: a plastic tub of Trader Joe's Swiss Almond Crunch cookies. Clearly, I am a little dissoriented as I reach for my alarm clock. The green numbers read 3:24am.

I stare at the clock and kind of wonder how I had gotten home, and how was it possible that 2 French 75's manage to put in a position in which I wake up in my bed with a stranger, albeit a tub of cookies, in my bed.

Since defending, I have ended almost every night with either a beer or a glass of wine. It is not that I am an alcoholoic, it is just that now I felt like there was nothing keeping me from not drinking every night. My lab is moving and the sheer chaos that is occuring everyday is maddening. Part of me is extremely irritated that things or so disorgaized. The other part of me is irritated that I am doing scut work for a man I am currently not in the best of terms.

In typical fashion, I sent out a plea for escape. Perhaps happy hour? Good thing I have friends that are happy to oblige in happy our. On Thursday, as I watched other members of my lab freeze their fingers off on the dry ice trying to read the minute labeling left 5 years ago from non english speaking postdocs, I snuck out of the lab at 4:30pm. I met A and R at Brassierie Jo's. Massachussetts does not allow the sale of alcohol at a discounted price, but to make up for it bars sell appetizers cheaply during normal happy hour hours. I was excited when I walked into the bar and I recognized the bartender. He was an older gentleman, the kind of person who takes bartending seriously. He dresses up, calls you madam or miss, and is impeccable about his manners.

A and I sat at one end of the bar, and I immediately shouted the bartender's name. He had no idea who I was, but was incredibly polite and offered up some small talk. I asked him for some band-aids, because I was wearing ridiculous roman sandals (which ET#2 abhors). For the first 10 minutes our lovely bartender went all around the kitchen and hotel front desk looking for my bandaids. How nice.

Anyway R soon joined us, and we proceeded to order French 75s. It is a nice summery cocktail and it came in a pretty frosted martini glass. What harm could a lemony drink cause. We ordered a number of sandwiches, fries, etc.. We chatted. We ate. We drank. At around 6:45pm we left the bar.

Now, I thought having been drinking so much this past month that I would have built up a tolerance for the EtOH. Not so. At precisely, the moment that I thought it would be a great idea to go in Sephora and test out perfumes, I should have realized I was hammered. I think I might have hugged a sales lady who thought I did not need eye cream. She said it is something you need in your thirties. Flattery will get you everywhere.

Then we decided we needed sweets. We are in Trader Joe's and I purchase a tub of Swiss Almond Crunch cookies. The three of us dig into them. Delicious. But what is a delicious cookie if you can't share them. We see a girl behind us, and for some reason we think it is appropriate to give her cookies. I think we were rewarding her for her cute shoes. I am not sure. She did take some. That action emboldened us.

I then proceeded to offer cookies to people all along Boylston Street. There were two men in business suits eating their dinner peacefully at Atlantic Fish. "I think your meal would be better with cookies, " I said. One of the men agreed and took a handful.

I offered cookies to hipsters, yuppies, and tourists. Only the tourists seemed skeptical. "Those city folks might try to taint cookies with drugs," they might have thought.

We went into the Globe, because once you are drunk more salty foods are needed. I offered cookies to our waiter, a twenty something himbo. It might have been the cocktail goggles but I could have sworn he was flirting with me. He took a cookie, but still managed to mess up our order.

Much is fuzzy after that. All I know is that I woke up with a practically empty tub of cookies, a sign of successful cookie banditing.

Why my breakfast made me sad

2008-05-09T07:24:00.002-04:00

I'll admit that I have been in sort of a self pity funk. I defended my Ph.D. and my lab is moving to Texas. And like at the end of all eras in my life, instead of rejoicing, I waste my time reflecting, self flagulating, worrying, and over analyzing my life. Instead of doing a little jig on the fact that I am finally done being a student (after 23 years including kindergarten), I spend a lot of time thinking about my single status. I get the idea that I single out of choice, but can't rid myslef of those romantic notions that my life would be a million times better with a good guy by my side. Maybe some of this is brought on by the high alcohol consumption as of late, or maybe it is all of a sudden I have way too much time on my hands.

I made a list of all the things that would be better if I were a double not a single. My room would be neater, I would shower more regularly, I'd have a reason to reactivate text messaging on my phone, I'd eat better, I'd be forced to be less self involved, I'd have someone to talk to incessantly on my cell phone etc..

I am eating breakfast this morning and I come across this list. My breakfast consists of a fried egg, the last matzoh, a mug of tea, a glass of milk, and half a bag of Trader Joe's cheese puffs. See - I thought, I'd eat something more conventional if someone was with me. But then I realized, I could eat something conventional now without anyone convincing me it would be a good idea. I was just too lazy to make the changes in my life myself. So my breakfast has sent me a down a shame spiral from my self pity funk. Sigh. Is there no end to this nonsense?

40 years and counting

2008-04-29T12:46:00.003-04:00

Sunday was my parent's 40th wedding anniversary. I had forgotten completely, until my sister called me to remind me. My parents are not people who make a big fuss about their anniversary. As a matter of fact, I still to this day do not know how my parents met and trust me my sister have tried. We've plied my parents, relatives, and their friends with copious amounts of liquor with no results. When we were younger we thought my parents were spies. In my teen years, we thought my mom got knocked up by accident. All theories were crushed when one summer my parents left me and my sister in California with all the keys to the safety deposit box.

Because I am a brat, I left the following message on their answering machine. "Hola mis padres. ET#1 here. Happy Anniversary. I hope you are doing something special today, but I am sure you are just at church. What are you going to do with no Todai around? Well, at least try to get along today. I love you both ... equally as much."

(Todai is an all you can eat buffet my dad loves because 1) he can get the senior discount 2) it is sushi and other random asian foods. My mom is not a fan, but tolerates it.)

According to my sister, my parents spent the afternoon at their korean church. But instead of going out, they spent the rest of the day home. They cracked open a bottle of wine and grilled kalbi out on our porch.

3000 miles away, I imagine my dad starting the fire. My mom yelling at him that the fire is too high. Then the two of the crowding over the barbecue telling each other to move all the meat around properly. My mom gets smoke in her eyes so my dad yells at her to just sit down as he finishes grilling the meat. My mom runs into the kitchen to get a london broil because the fire is too good to waste. And the two of them eating outside with their wine laughing about something that happened at church or their favorite korean drama. I imagine that it got dark, but the two of them lingered outside until it was too cold for them to tolerate.

In my 32 years of knowing them, I never witnessed any romantic moments between the two. Hell, I have never seen sit on the same couch. The nicest thing my dad ever said about my mom was "You know, ET#1, you are lucky. Your mom is okay looking. When your boyfriends meet her, they know you will not be ugly in the future." Yet, despite all of their lack of romance, I know there has always been love (that is minus 1985-1988, but that is a story for another day).

Happy Anniversary, Mom and Dad. Here's to 40 more years of insanity.

Another year older...

2008-04-25T11:27:00.002-04:00

Here is a link to some photos from Saturday night's dinner and karaoke. It was so much fun that I actually stayed out past 2 am! Too bad I lost my voice the next day. I guess I am getting too old to party hard.

This Just Seems Wrong

2008-04-23T15:35:00.002-04:00

I came across this today and I can't believe that anyone would be willing to pay that much for a pair of plastic shoes. I remember when jellies were popular in the early 80's and I begged, BEGGED my mom to buy me a pair in the 4th grade. Instead of the pearly pink kind that I wanted, I ended up with opaque white ones that were (of course) on sale for about $5. They were, in retrospect, far cooler than the ones that everyone else was wearing out on the playground. It turns out that Marc Jacobs also has some out on the market that are about the same price as the Givenchy ones, but at least the MJ ones are cute...

Happy B-Day, Evil Twin #2

2008-04-21T16:14:00.004-04:00

Dear Evil Twin #2,

Happy Birthday. Hope you recovered from whatever debauchery occurred Saturday night.

Love,
ET#1

PS Power point is perhaps not the best art medium, but it is the only one I can manage.

I am smarter than you....

2008-04-15T22:49:00.003-04:00

Partial record of a phone conversation on Saturday.

My sister: Hey your niece wants to talk to you. (She hands over her cell phone.)

Me: Hello? Hello, N?

My Niece: Hewo, Emo (that is Aunt in Korean). (In the background, I hear my mother saying "N, say 'congratualtions' say 'congratulations.') Congwatuwations, Emo.

Me: Thank you, N. That is very nice of you to say.

My Niece: Why am I saywing "congwatuwations?" (Your, Emo, is now a doctor, I hear my Mom yell.) You awre a dowctor, Emo? My daddy and his fwiends awre dwoctors.

Me: I am a different kind of doctor. I do not help people. I am like your teacher. Sometimes teachers are called doctor too.

My Niece: No.

Me: Yes.

My Niece: You are not a doctor like my Daddy.

Me: Correct. My doctorate just means that I am smarter than you. Ow! (My sister just hit me.)

A great day

2008-04-02T22:58:00.002-04:00

Some days are good, some days are bad and some are simply great. Today was a great day.

Yes, today was my birthday and by default a god given national holiday, but it was more than that. Normally, I week to a month before my birthday I like to send out reminders. "Don't forget about my special day April 2nd," the emails would read. This year, I decided to play it a little low key this year. Not because I dislike being 32, and not because I was trying to be coy. I was trying to be low key because quite frankly, I am freaking out about the fact that I am defending in less than 10 days.

6 am - Wake up. Eat Frosted mini-wheats. Go for a wog. Weather is a perfect 40-50 degrees, and sunny. Have a very hot shower, then crawl into bed.

9 am - Watch host chat on "Live with Regis and Kelly."

9:15 am - Realize that I am never going to win a free vacation to Aruba from them.

10 am - Get a singing voice mail from my sister. Yes, I am obnoxious, but I like the "Happy Birthday" song. As I am listening, I get a message from the all elusive Manolo. Hugs and kisses to you too, Baby.

10:15 am - Go online and read all my messages. I love it when my mailbox is NOT empty. You see unlike you all who have real jobs and emails have become an unbearable burden, I don't have that problem. Continue to goof off online.

11:45 am - Finally, leave house and saunter to school. When I walk in to the lab V shouts Happy Birthday.

12:45 pm - Order a bacon burger from the Mission. It is made exactly right. Brioche bun is grilled and crispy on one side. Patty is a perfectly cooked medium and I get 5 strips of smoked applewood bacon instead of the normal 4. Also, came back with a good story. As I went to pay for my burger I saw three construction guys drinking SoCo and whiskey.

1:45 pm - Almost snarf the water in my mouth when I see incriminating photo sent to me by A.

I will skip afternoon activities because some of it involved me freaking out about my work and having an awkward conversation with my advisor.

5 pm - Sent off emails to people who may want to attend my defense.

6:30 pm - Leave lab with V. Debate night time activities. Decide to go to Intramural Softball game.

6:45 pm - Listen to more singing messages on my home number. Almost cry from laughter. Parents apparently have decided to play nice this year and did a joint message. (Some years they call separately and secretly, in a weird competitive need to be the better parent.)

8:20 pm - Am leaving apt. for the game which starts at 9:30pm. Run into my landlord. Tell him that I am defending and that I might want to throw a party at my apartment. Wanted to know if that would be okay. "Of course," he said. "Actually, why don't you have it at our place? We can get it catered and everything. Invite all your friends. Oh we would be so happy to do it." Then as we walked outside together, he said " You know I ran into CA (someone I went to high school with) and I told her what an amazing person you are. Oh and she say hi." I almost started crying right there. (And FYI, I cannot in good conscience make my elderly landlords throw me a party, but still...)

9:10 pm - I have been waiting for the bus for about half an hour. I am freezing. I see a guy with a bunch of Trader Joe bags. He definitely has had enough too. He tried to wave down a cab. I ask him if he wants to split one and he say yes. He did not realize that there was a cab stand across the street. He is so grateful, that he insists on paying the whole fare and does not take my money.

9:30 pm - Playing softball with the Dudley team. We have three good players. The undergrads we are playing are a bunch of very muscular boys, who actually know the rules of the game. We do not, nor do we have a captain. But we have spirit!

10:15 pm - I pitch for our team. We are losing 23-1 so it really does not matter. One of the boys send a smashing grounder into my ankle. Am about to cry because it hurts so much, but get to throw his ass out on First. Get high fives from the opposing team. Feeling like a huge studdette.

11:20 pm - Get home and get more emails. Yay! Some of these are from old profs, who now want to come to my defense. Am feeling warm and fuzzy inside. Start writing blog entry so every can share in my happy mood.

Thank you everyone who sent me lovely emails and phone messages, I have not stopped smiling all day. Thank you everyone who had no idea it was my birthday because you are awesome. And thank you all you random people who were just really nice to me today for no good reason.

Sorry I am so sappy, but it is still my day darn it. At least for another 6 minutes.

Happy Birthday!!

2008-04-02T09:51:00.003-04:00

Today is Evil Twin #1's birthday. She is 29 years young, with 3 years of experience! I think it would make her day if we all called her and sang Happy Birthday on her voicemail...

Google vanity

2008-03-24T14:26:00.002-04:00

Why am I reading People.com when I have so much work left to do? Who knows.

Anyway this story made me laugh. John Mayer denies Googling himself every day. Why? I don't do it everyday, but I do it quite often. It is a favorite activity of mine. I, also, enjoy the semi-pornographic highly airbrushed pictures of a beauty queen that shares my name.

Is that really a bad thing to check on oneself often?

Why I hate the Fed

2008-03-17T15:12:00.004-04:00

When I am stressed, I am prone to rant and rave a lot. More so than usual. For example, Evil Twin #2, S, B, and I had dinner the other night and I went off on yuppie soccer moms who believe immunizing their children leads to autism. "I hope all their children die whooping cough," I said.

My rant of the day is on the Federal Reserve. I, as it soon will become apparent, did terribly in MacroEconomics. In my naivite, I believed the Fed was an independent organization. I believed that they looked at the economy as a whole and not simply on the stock market as their only indicies.

I understand that they have no choice to act the way they have as of late. Because of the stranglehold Wall Street has on them, they have no choice to lower interest rates and pump so much money into the system. But I am still bitter.

It is like that stupid cricket and ant fable. The diligent ants have to take care of this retarded dancing cricket, because he was too stupid to store any food. In a way you wish, the ants just let it die in the snow.

I am a freakin' ant. I have saved whatever I could. I never go into debt, I cannot handle. I have always had a savings account, investing in our rapidly devaluating dollar. And truly the only thing I get for it is to be punished for being responsible.

Joe Lewis bitches about the Bear Stearns/JP Morgan deal. Boohoo, you lost over a billion dollars, but you have been dancing your ass off all this time while others have been diligent. You encouraged your dumbass company to take on high risk debt even when everyone knew what would happen. I wished there was a true run on it. Your absolute ruin may teach others a lesson.

But back to the big picture, Fed, you suck. You want to control inflation, but you keep on lowering interest rates. You want Americans to save more money, but you lower interest rates. You are Wall Street's bitch. Every time traders start any modest selloff or an investment bank, that is not insured, crashes , you freakout, bend over, and give in to whatever they want.

Fine. I am going to closeout my Orange account buy a TV that works, then I am going to buy those Chie Mihara peep toe pumps I have been coveting. Then whatever is leftover is going into Indian gaming and beer. I want to be a cricket too.

Quiz

2008-03-12T15:23:00.003-04:00

Since I gave up chocolate for Lent, this was one way I could get a chocolate fix. I got 7 right on the first page and then decided to stop torturing myself.